My sisters write healings’ til there is only sacred breath, she heals as writes, she heals as she plays, she heals as she prays, she heals as she chants, she heals as she sings, she heals as she dances through the words she speaks, of former wounds and making of these wounds “beauty for mapping”.
Sifting and shifting higher worthiness, all the ways of her own. In worthiness, she is worthy to be blessed, and worthy to bless others.
She is worthy of love. Worthy of loving herself, worthy of her own imperfections. Worthy of holding the high watch of her own peace. Worthy of sacred space & sacred ritual. Worthy to be forgiven & worthy to forgive.
In that of what we are healing-art transformed, for some of us, the most brutal and teeth cutting existence through the fluidity of colorless liquid of miracles, flowing out of our bodies, blood like water, to watch our souls pounding in cadence, “oh’ how, we must sing the Lord’s song in a strange land”~ your poet Krissy Mosley ©2022