✨A reckoning.✨
She walked out barefoot,
moonlight in her hair,
like silver threads God forgot to braid.
The night was thick with secrets—
and she was one of them.
The Spanish moss didn’t ask her name,
just moved slow like it already knew
what she came there to do.
The black water waited,
still and holy.
Not church-house holy,
but earth-blood holy—
truth-soaked and shadow-fed.
She walked in dragging chains she never forged
and teeth bared from abandonment.
Felt the mud swallow her to the knees,
Let it take her shame, her guilt…
Her silence.
Let it hold every version of her
she handed away like offerings
to boys who only knew how to worship reflections.
She thought love meant becoming smaller.
Softer.
Quieter.
Obedient.
She thought it meant
breaking her own bones
to make others comfortable in their illusions.
But the water said:
“Come home, baby.
Sink down. Be held.
You are not a box of apologies with pretty hair.
You are thunder that learned to whisper.”
She sank down, then deeper,
let the blackness close over her head—
not to die,
but to resurrect.
Down there in the mud and memory,
She found her—
the wild girl with fire in her chest
and dirt on her face.
The one she tried to clean up
so she’d be palatable for betrayal.
She brought her back to the surface.
Dripping truth.
Eyes wide.
Spirit loud.
Let the world be scandalized.
Let them choke on their masks.
You can have your religion.
She’s been baptized by the bayou,
and she doesn’t belong to performance anymore.