body built cathedral
The daughters were never afraid. They were occupied.
my lineage did not fear the fire
they feared the men who built the cages around it
called the cages virtue
called the shrinking holy
called the trembling obedience
our bodies weren’t afraid –
they were occupied
colonized
scripted into silence by a god with a father-voice and hands that burned when we said no
we did not flinch because we were weak
we vanished because visibility was death
dissociation wasn’t fragility –
it was strategy
divinity hiding in the rafters until the swords passed
i carry a bloodline of women who swallowed their own names so we could live
i did not inherit fear
i inherited survival
i inherited genius
i inherited the art of disappearing so thoroughly the body forgot it once was a temple
and now – i return
i walk back into the body they abandoned for me shaking
i meet the terrified child inside my ribs
smooth her hair
press my forehead to hers
and whisper: you may rest now
i am here to burn
i wrap her in softness, kiss her closed eyelids tuck her beneath quilts of honey and bone and tell her stories of a world where fire is not danger but birthright
and then – i turn to the sky
to the fathers and their thrones
to every god who mistook control for worship and i open my mouth like a spell:
watch me
watch us return to our bodies
watch what happens when the daughters stop hiding i am not afraid of the fire
i am the fire
and feel every ancestor exhale through me as i ignite