Catalyst

In the quiet of the forest

I can finally hear my voice

The visceral growl buried inside

of generations silenced before my time

I sit with the questions:

How do I honor this matriarchal rage

without perpetuating harm?

Can I bring it to the altar of my ancestors

and leave it there?

If I offer my life as a gift

will the land compost it for us?

In the quiet of the forest

the answers become loud in the shape of

tree whispers, wind songs, bird songs, butterfly wings

Energy moving and shifting, constantly

reminding me, gently

that I too am energy

Protons, electrons, catalyst

ready to create something new.

...

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