Rebirth the Root

June 28, 2025|Poetry

I press my ear to the root of the world
and feel her pulsing in my bones,
a rhythm older than doubt,
wiser than fear,
deeper than what I've dared to claim.

I walk with the serpent now,
not to conquer her,
but to remember that she is me,
the one who sheds skin in silence,
who coils in the dark to dream a new dawn.
She does not rush.
She listens.

I have come to rebirth the root.
Not through force,
but through holy, honest presence.
Through the cracked-open moments
when I want to run,
and instead…
I stay.
I breathe.
I feel.

Devotion is not soft.
It burns.
It shows me everything.
It holds the mirror up with no mercy,
and still, I do not look away.
I see the hunger.
I see the doubt.
I see the golden child behind the thorned veil.

This is not collapse.
This is choosing the lesson,
choosing the temple
inside each trembling moment.

I will not resist the resistance.
I will name her sacred.
I will sit with her at the edge of myself
until the edge becomes a doorway,
and the doorway becomes a root,
and the root becomes a serpent trail
leading me home.

This is my offering,
to rise from the underworld
not clean, but true.
Not perfect, but present.
Not untouched, but initiated.

I am the one who births through the root.
And I choose to walk forward,
with the mirror in my hands,
and the medicine in my womb.