Black Box

We forgot our passions.

We forgot to love ourselves. 

We forgot to care for ourselves. 

We forgot the goddess inside of us. 

We forgot that we were beautiful.

We forgot to be wild. 

We forgot how to be sexy. 

We forgot how to trust. 

We forgot how to play. 

We forgot our dreams. 

We forgot our names. 

We made excuses. 

We tried to forget all that we once were. 

We believed that age required sensibility.

We gave up our dreams or passions because following them was irresponsible or reckless. 

We listened to a society that was out for it’s own. It embraced the masculine and shamed the feminine. 

We became ashamed of our sexuality because the world taught us to. 

We bowed down when it spoke. It gave us equal rights but that came with a cost – our freedom. 

We let it tame the wild woman that we were. 

We took on more and more. 

We stopped making time for the things that gave us glowing fluidity. 

We remembered our fears and gave them our power. 

We let our smiles be replaced by frowns. 

We let passion fall from our laugh. 

We wanted to dance but was scared everyone was watching. 

We lost touch with that woman who lit up a room simply by stepping across the threshold. 

We had slowly put all the gifts that had been gifted to us in a black box and hid it away to be forgotten. 

We grieved our death and walked away. 

Years pass and we began to fade. Darkness sets in. We have to find the black box. 

Then something changes. 

We look in the mirror and instead of accepting that that wild woman in us has been tamed we break the mirror and remind ourselves it’s okay to break the rules. We fill ourselves with wisdom of women before us who have created the footsteps we now walk in. This wisdom disguises itself in self help books and ancient rituals we now embrace. We buck the system and search for what works for us and not what works for others. We adopt the “I don’t give a fuck” attitude. We acknowledge the wrinkles on our face for they say “You have lived.” We dream wildly. We embrace our own kind of sexuality. (Push up bras suck and thongs are the worst invention ever! Burn baby burn!) We become goddesses in the bedroom. We unleash our passions in all facets of our lives. We know life is too short to hold back. We have been starved of joy and self love for way too long. We take it back with an intensity that is new to us. Yet we find a peace that is new to us. We no longer let the world crush us or accept that we have to carry other’s burdens. Those years came. Now with the shards of glass on the floor they will go. 

We carefully pull out what was stored in our little box and admire the imperfect beauty we were told to put away. We adore what we thought was lost but has been found. We say thank you to the old black box that held us for so many years. Then with our bare hands we pick up the glass shards from the bathroom floor and place them in the empty black box. No more years will pass where we hide who we are. With our bare feet we walk out in the cold where we discard the black box. It’s purpose has been served. We say one more thank you one more time.