Our bones are born of stone: Solidarity after the Pulse Tragedy. {poetry}

To you, the unholy foundation poured with raw guts and fresh blood,

I say our bones are born of stone.

To you, the curly-haired boy who raped Her in the mud,

And the corrupt politician on his crumbling throne


To the mass murderer who our too-small laws could not stop

And the system that’s fractured by fear

And the machetes and guns that chop, Pulse, and pop

Aimed to hold down all we hold dear…


To you, I say our bones are born from fucking stone.

You may penetrate our so-soft skin,

But your hate will never reach the soul-forged bone.

The slain are our hallowed kin.


Our memories are longer than yours, old friend.

Our weapons, our words, have a long reach.

Not this year, not next, but soon comes the end

For our children learn what we preach.


You are a dying breed, you lonely beast,

Your hands too frail to hold the pen,

I dare you to not sign and have your feast,

For it will not happen again.


So mote it be, to the filthiest one.

We are taking you down.

You’ve left us no choice, and Mama’s come home,

Our children are stealing your crown.


You think that you’ve won, that we will stand down.

You think you’ve done a great thing.

You don’t know, but our ropes are unbound.

You’ve no clue how loud we will sing.


Our hearts have been broken, our blood runs bright red,

But not one of us stands alone.

You’ve only awoken what’s been in our bed,

And our bones are born of stone.


You have not dimmed our righteous love;

You have only broadened its reach

Over you, we stand high above,

We do not learn what you teach.


Never before have you been so near-death

But we, so aware and awake,

We will watch, we’ll smile as you take your last breath

And we’ll burn our shame at the stake.


To the war-masters, the rulers, the law-makers,

I beg you to open your eyes!

Lock down, lock out these metal life-takers

And replace with truth your too-sugary lies.


You see what’s become of the nation you fight for?

You see what corruption has done?

Why do you want one bloody night more?

So cowardly you run!


I thought you were brave, and I thought you were right

But I was wrong, as were you

Do nothing again, turn off your light

If you can’t help, then who?


We’ll do it ourselves with our raging voices.

We’ll make you understand.

You know well we make our own choices,

And no one is forcing our hand.


No problem gets solved well with your hate.

No fire put out with fuel.

But the hour’s become so very late,

It’s our death or our renewal!


Choke the breath from our lungs again.

Spill the blood from our veins.

We are stronger than we’ve ever been!

In our bones, one soul, un-ruined, remains.


DanielleDulsky02Danielle Dulsky is a longtime activist for wild woman spirituality and the divine feminine’s return. She is the author of the soon-to-be published Woman Most Wild: Liberating the Witch Within (coming May 2017, publisher New World Library) and is on a mission to inspire women to be fearless creators of their sacred work. She holds the highest designation from Yoga Alliance as an E-RYT 500, is the founder of the fully accredited Living Mandala Yoga teacher training programs, and believes in holistic healing for the sensual, creative, and spiritual self. Her work is grounded in holding space for women to harvest their inner Priestess through personally relevant movement alchemy, intuitive artistic practice, and divine feminine spirituality. Danielle leads women circles, Witchcraft workshops, energy healing trainings, and basic (200-hour) and advanced (300-hour) Yoga teacher trainings in Phoenixville, Pennsylvania. She believes that all women alive today are meant to be instrumental in supporting positive social transformation through wild woman spirituality, reclamation of the name Witch, and the magick of sisterhood. You could contact her via email.


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