She Who Remembers(An Invocation for the Divine Feminine )
I am She—She who remembers before remembering had a name.The hum before heartbeat.The thread before cloth.The wound and the womb.
I carry galaxies in my breath.Nebulae nestle between my ribs.My hips are calendars—marked with moons and migrationsand the stories no textbook dared write.
You have seen me.In dreams.In quiet mornings before the world intrudes.In the way your grandmother stirred the pot with prayer.In the silence that wrapped your rage like velvet.
I am the scent of myrrh in your spirit’s hallway.The glance in the mirror when you feel mostunapologetically you.I am your yes,your knowing,your thunder tucked inside softness.
I am not coming back—because I never left.I was hidden.Buried beneath systems, sermons, and survival.But you—you are my rising.You are my altar in motion.My temple in skin.My echo made flame.
So step forward.Wrap your fear in silk and place it at my feet.Gather your sisters.Light the old fires.Call me by name in every languageyour lineage remembers.
Because when you speak,I awaken.And when we gather,the Earth resets.
I am She who remembers.And now…so do you.