✨Confirmation✨
She was standing outside, barefoot in the breath of June,
phone pressed to her ear, heart pressed to the truth.
Telling an old friend how they’ve been lied to—
how they buried Her name,
how they carved the Father in stone
and left the Mother out of the hymn.
She said,
“We are born from Her, you know—
from soil and saltwater, from the dark-wombed hush of the earth…
and somehow, we forgot.”
But not all the way.
Somewhere in her blood—Creek and Scottish both—
a memory still stirred.
Her Creek kin saw the butterfly as a messenger—
a whisper from the spirit realm,
a symbol of change, of joy,
of the breath of ancestors returning.
And her Scottish roots, wild as moorland wind,
knew the land as a living woman—
goddess, healer, sovereign queen.
The old stories spoke of shape-shifters and soul-keepers,
winged women between the worlds.
And right then—
as if the wind was listening,
as if the leaves held their breath—
a monarch butterfly floated by her,
soft as a secret, bold as a sign.
The butterfly landed on the shutter,
ten feet away, just watching.
And she smiled and said,
“You can land on me if you want to.”
She hadn’t even finished the sentence
before the butterfly flew straight toward her—
kissed her cheek like she knew her,
then curled herself soft around her hand,
like a ribbon from another realm.
A monarch.
Queen of butterflies.
Bearer of ancestral memory.
Sovereign traveler of thousands of miles—
who somehow knew exactly where to land.
A whisper from the
Divine Feminine Herself,
in winged form.
She was speaking truth…
and Creation responded.
And in that holy hush, she felt it—
not just seen.
Loved.
So deeply, so wildly, so eternally loved.