If God Was a Woman
What if the Divine was not distant, not male, not silent—but bleeding, birthing, and burning with sacred memory? This poem reclaims God in her truest form: womb of galaxies, bearer of wisdom, and voice of the forgotten.
What if the Divine was not distant, not male, not silent—but bleeding, birthing, and burning with sacred memory? This poem reclaims God in her truest form: womb of galaxies, bearer of wisdom, and voice of the forgotten.
A Table For One
What’s lonelier — a table for one, or a table for two with nothing left to say?
What’s lonelier — a table for one, or a table for two with nothing left to say?