The gift

I stood by the maiden, she said, "no, sweetness, I am not what you need right now. Go journey towards the queen, her medicine is potent, your heart is ready!"

So I bowed low to the queen, her pine needles in my hands, and I said, "ouch."

But remembered your voice cooing us, saying, " let them be symbols before your eyes..."

Gold imprints on my forehead and you said, "this way isn't easeful, it is hard and it can hurt"

Yes, Queen.

"I have seen you journey through the mountains to find me, now you are here, you are ready to receive. "

The angelic voice of healing began her orgasmic hymnal, tears now streaming through me.

I am ready.

You lay upon my head a crown of Rose thorns. Only the branches and prickers.

I wonder where the flower is.

And then in my hands you place a single rose, it is red, it is small.

I look at it and it starts to grow, petals shifting, blossoming, multiplying until my hands are filled with a full bouquet of roses in all your magestic colors.

This is my gift:

To know that sacred strength means owning the power of the thorn. My hands are abundant with beauty, alchemizing the ordinary always into the extraordinary.

I kiss your stone, your feet, your truth.

You've blessed me on this day.

I've been welcomed in and initiated into the queen-dom by the highest and holiest queen herself.

My body lays prostrate, no, stand up tall and wear this crown proud. Nobody needs to see it, but I will know it is there guiding my choices, holding my strength.