Ode to Kali Ma , Goddess Oceana

Ode to Kali Ma of the Feminine Rising on Earth

Into the swamp goes the chaos of emotional pain as old patterns unwind and blow up.

Into the swamp pours the decades devoured by the ferocious beast of dysfunctional relating, dating back generations that spilled out into my beautiful new lifetime and ate it up alive while I watched in horror.

Into the swamp I heave feminine oppression and submission.

Into the swamp goes the apologetic, guilt ridden psychological habit of women, myself included.

Into the swamp I leave an entire lifetime of wasted genius, multiplied across the entire earth as women were swallowed up in the patriarchal sewage that is our recent and current humanity.

I claim this purging for myself, I claim this for all women, I claim this for all children, I claim this for all men…

I release into the swamp this inherited abscess that seemingly knows no end and yet I will end it.

Into the swamp I grieve the beauty that might have been, now tattered in muddy shreds at the bottom of the stench.

Into the swamp I rage the holy hellfire of infinitely endless labor it takes for a single woman to stand the fuck up in the face of this outrageous beating down.

I rage at the machine of pain, the magnitude of the monster, the mother-fucking genius of a contrived concentration camp we live in located on earth.

I rage at the way it outwits us from the inside out.

I am building an army of leaders out of this glorious rage fire, as I count the severed wits of women worldwide and tally up this fucking scorecard.

Into the swamp I rage that this is the final purging.

Right here.

Right now.

With every breath from this moment until I breathe my dying exhale, I stand with sword flashing in the air for every single drop of the Feminine Rising.

SO BE IT.

~ Goddess Oceana

Age & Wisdom = Old Souls Freed

Silver~
“How many years of beauty do I have left?
she asks me.
How many more do you want?
Here. Here is 34. Here is 50.
When you are 80 years old
and your beauty rises in ways
your cells cannot even imagine now
and your wild bones grow luminous and
ripe, having carried the weight
of a passionate life.
When your hair is aflame
with winter
and you have decades of
learning and leaving and loving
sewn into
the corners of your eyes
and your children come home
to find their own history
in your face.
When you know what it feels like to fail
ferociously
and have gained the
capacity
to rise and rise and rise again.
When you can make your tea
on a quiet and ridiculously lonely afternoon
and still have a song in your heart
Queen owl wings beating
beneath the cotton of your sweater.
Because your beauty began there
beneath the sweater and the skin,
remember?
This is when I will take you
into my arms and coo
YOU BRAVE AND GLORIOUS THING
you’ve come so far.
I see you.
Your beauty is breathtaking.”
~ Jeannette Encinias