sword Archives | Rebelle Society

To My Sacred Sisters.

Travel to all the forgotten places. Dance naked beneath the shining starlight of your intuition. Rediscover the ancient mysteries drawn on the walls of your womb and the wisdom of the ever-changing scarlet tides of your blood. Step boldly into the long-suppressed fires of sacred anger, allowing ...

poetry

Tombs. {poetry}

Tie my acres of veins around the globe Marking our compass path of the future The roads of the path like rough guitar strings, leading the way out into the pulsing planet

poetry

Blood in Ice, Ice in Blood. {poetry}

He is a kin with beggar’s blood dark and cold made elemental man.

troublemakers

Dethroning The Patriarch: From Where Do You Return?

Emboldened to speak, a young and brave-hearted man leaves the safety of his mother’s arms and moves toward the king: I believe you are confused, king, the young one says. You have no entitlement. Is your lingam proof of ownership over every female body? I, poor king, am a man, but we are not of ...

you & me

Sisters, Let Us Drop Our Swords.

We need one another. This need runs deep through the ancient marrow of our bones. Belonging is woven through our DNA. We belong with and to one another. We want to move with the wisdom of our Supreme Sister -- Mother Nature -- guiding our every move. We need our sisters’ strength.

poetry

The Old Warrior. {poetry}

I hadn't seen myself as a warrior fighting and struggling with weapons in my hands, defending the borders of my kingdom, and with just one goal… … to achieve peace, and living on the truth and the hope that all battles and wars come to an end.

archives, wisdom

4 Ways To Practice Love In The Time Of War.

How do we speak, not to the defenses and the armor, the puffed chests and bolstered cases, but to the innocent creatures beneath, rattled and confused? How do we step into the battlefield with curiosity, not to fight, but to call one another home? How do we call each other back to our own ...

poetry

What Princesses Really Want. {poetry}

I do not want smooth marble castles, I want mortar eaten away by nature. I want the smell of wet moss and wood rot To seep into my lover’s lair

sword

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