The social rule of women weaponized against man, I break it all of the time. It is not one I am here to comply with. I’ve lived it and then found the lie hidden in plain sight seated in the heart of man, waiting for me to wake up. The tenderness of man, sweet nurture in the breast of protector.
My ferocity, my fury, my wilderness was never meant to be weaponized against men it is my alchemy, my feminine howl sourcing deep from the molten in me, meeting the crashing waves, the tsunami in me. This audacity in me, this rule breaker, this laugh with the moon fire dancer, this wildcat is my galactic imprint moving my body, painting my songs, absolute surrender to ancient philosophy genetically spoken. This braved heart petal kisser, this bare toes kissing grass, this deep breath relaxation onto belly of soil. To bastardize this into a weapon against man to me is to disrespect and degrade the deep being of my womanhood.
I stand by the deep being of man, his wilderness, his cry out to the stars, his footprint steady and solid as the dust makes way for his feet, his whisper to the trees, his grounding, the gentle stroke of his forefinger behind the ear of beast who acquiesced. His mighty being, his vulnerable softness, his unapologetic unbridled passion laughing through to break the echoes of complicity baring a path that dares the known to give way to limitless possibility. The call in his heart of pure dare and care, his inspiration of self care retainer, the challenge in his eyes imploring one to choose rise in self sight and evolution, while resting in heart to pour waterfall of authenticity. He dares to break open worlds. To misconstrue his being as hindrance is to disrespect and degrade the source of life that is man.
What the protector protects is not weak, nor separate but his counterpart. Who always stands powerfully by his side. At times it is not she whom he protects but those who seek her wrath. No one knows how to diffuse and ground like the masculine. No one. He is balance.
Ready as co-creators, together seeding, birthing languages of discover stitched into the unconsciousness awaiting rebirth. Reviving portals gasping to be seen. Imagining from dreams to paper, to home, to breath. The vivid creative unstoppable force of expansion when man and woman step ground together. Each honored is paramount.
So, I will dance by the fire with my brothers and sisters.
Lest you call out to the feminine. You will meet her.
Writing By Kristal D. Garcia