Eat Or Be Eaten

My cycle is shifting again. These phases are never set. There is no usual, no common, no regular. It is always either-or-both. I is always resting in the knowing that soon the tides with change. Like a pendulum always in motion. My body, seeking duality, walking and waking with intention and motivation beyond my knowing. This vessel, a living, thriving, community.

Though the timing may change, the song is always the same. Hymnals of blood and grief. The questions overflowing, the most accurate answer being, “burn it, kill it, let it die” so we may start anew.

I was born of exhaustion and surrender and I have been fighting since arrival. My mission runs clear, calculated, quiet. I pace my kitchen with bare feet and fire in my chest. I make faces in the bathroom mirror. I check my pulse. I remember and remember and remember and I strengthen the tether of blood ties and womanhood.

This ends here, with us. The cycle is shifting. I begins our own backyards. It runs through us and does not ask permission. It has always been the same. Eat or be eaten.