“There is a difference between holy and pure. Holy is also the way the anger boils inside our throats, the forgotten in us that carves at our bellies, the need to turn the heavens themselves inside out when they twist the knife, and laugh, laugh, laugh.

Unlearn holy as gentle. This is the lie we have all been feeding each other, mother to daughter, asking the calm within us to braid our hair, to touch a cool palm to our cheeks, remind us every night that anger will return tenfold if we do not control it. Forgive, forgive, forgive.

Pure is what they measure out for us, like we are their personal recipes. As though we are made for practice, not for ourselves. A cup of softness, half a bowl of innocence, a bucket full of virginity, pretend our prison is our feast while they devour, devour, devour.

We know better now. We face fires hand-in-hand. We look at each other and say the words each of us needs to hear. We let the anger boil and let loose flame by volatile flame. We smile, sacred burning, burning, burning, and reincarnate.”

~ Nikita Gill, “Great Goddesses”

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