When the heart bleeds, I call the fire; a holy raging heat to cauterize the wound that feels like the end of me.
My summons may begin with the sounds of desperation: those panting, gasping breaths that plead and beg for relief.
But at some point and soon, the call becomes stronger, tinged with the righteous anger that remembers the predator and his lies, the jab of his metal fingers and the fear he wields as weapon, against what he desperately fears in me.
Because he is bereft.
Suffering a fractured soul; dangerous in his injured state.
"He" is not a person.
He is a symbol of everything that has kept me from my power.
And today, by my bleeding heart and the fire of my soul, I stand up.
I keep one eye on the predator and I call the fire.
I call the fire to ignite my own divine spark; I watch it flame and sputter to life, gathering to itself the air to grow larger, fiercer, holier.
I call the fire that claims and holds fast all the words that sustain my soul in Her eternal safety.
I remember that participation in my own soul's safety is the most critical sort, beyond the body's, the culture's and the world around me.
I consciously remember this, because to remember this truth is to hold myself together in a genuine wholeness as the holy one I am, and that slows the bleeding.
I know that to find the safe soulspace is the first step in recovering my power. I know this.
I call forth and speak all the words I know carry power, and weave them with fire into my cellular matrix, reveling in their design, opening to their secrets, surrendering to their cleansing heat.
When the heart bleeds, I call the fire. Because to command forth the holy flame is to welcome the light into a darkness; a light that warms and feeds me.
I call forth the fire, and my sisters emerge in solidarity with me. We dance the fire dances at night, in the dark, in our skin, in our power, in our ancient circle that flames.
I call the fire, summoning all the dancing spirits of the earth that seek my healing and highest good.
I call the fire, feeling into the fear and lethargy that is ready to burn up and give way to new, empowered life.
I call the fire, and the holy winds blow through me, signaling a shift and rise in the licking heat around my heart and throat.
I acknowledge the bleed,
and call the fire.
The two merge, and the fusion of their red heat creates a new life in me; one that is ready to fight, from love.
I am ready to fight, from a place of great love.
I am ready to bring the change, from a place of great love.
From the bleeding of me to the fire of me, I am ready.
We are ready for this.