This girl is on fire

there is a girl
she is wise
and wary of flames
but still, she knows
she will survive the fire
life scorches sometimes.
she has been a phoenix before
and every time
she burns to ashes
she knows
exactly how to rise
again.

she carries
destruction grief
carved river deep in her bones
specializes in
wrecking ball
knows how to bring
the whole thing down
surveys the broken
claims it as wholeness
and names it all good
she knows well
the holy necessity
of beginning again.

she has gone mad
for beauty
found rapture in shadows
calls poetry her religion
she seduces uncertainty
like a dominatrix
bows to no god
names herself goddess
builds alters
to the divinity
of heat and sweat and sex
and claims righteous ownership of
the body she has been given.

she once held her truth
in bone marrow,
locked deep.
but she was always
prone to fracture
learned that words flowed best
at the broken spots
she wrote splinter point novellas
told shatter stories
knit words into worlds
and worlds into heat
and heat into breath
and breath into medicine
and she learned her voice
had the power to heal.


she lives transparent now
welcomes the feel
of air on bare skin
throws arms wide
holds out her heart
and says here
take this
all of it
she figured early
that far too much energy
is invested in veiling
truth
in hiding bodies
in cloaking love
she refuses
to cultivate shame
she saves her effort
for vital things.

she knows that
love is expensive
and always worth
the price
she knows home is not
where she lives
but something
inside held
and sometimes
only found by leaving
she knows that walls
are imaginary
and that open doors
are everywhere
and that eventually
we will all
make our way
back to the sea
back to the crashing waves
back to salt water truth

she does not believe in one day
no happily ever after
or black and white
hard truths
her forever is now
she finds her rapture in the fullness
of this moment
humanity is her only dogma
kindness her communion
and church a mountain top
in the center of the desert
while the city pulses below
she speaks amen
in every holy fragment of existence.

she always knew she’d have daughters
knew she would mother them well.
she teaches them the value of their
outside voice
their no voice
their yes voice
their my entire being is a temple voice
she teaches them that their spirit
is truth
and their truth
is strength
and their strength
is vulnerability
and their vulnerability is a gift.
she knows too many girls
are broken before they
become
she has done battle in the name of rebirth
carries her scars with fierce grace
she finds beauty in the breakdown
and wholeness in the shatter
strength in the fault lines
and goodness in everything.


she is not afraid to name her gifts
knows the magic in her words
knows the spiral in her hips
she has a vital spark
at the center of her longing
she has secrets behind her eyes
and will share them
with anyone
who asks
but she only wants those
who commit
to asking.

she knows that compromise
is for vocations
and that spirit
is non-negotiable
she accepts no labels or limits
build her a box
and she will dismantle it carefully
use the pieces
to create a stage
and sing her own wild song
knows there is a power
in the melody we carry in our
bones.

She knows the lotus blooms
in mud
she knows the phoenix
goes down in flames
she knows the rapture of lust
and the escape of captivity
she knows the center of the paradox
is where the truth is found.

she is full of sky
full of starshine
full of goddess flame
bleeds words
speaks truth
welcomes it all
howls at the moon

she is a girl on fire
she is stoking the flames
she is lighting the world
she burning to ashes
And always she is rising
And rising
And rising again.


(Girl on Fire by Jeanette LeBlan)

Firebird

It can light up a dark room with the brightness of its plumage.
It kills deathless demons; it restores the dead to life.
Capture the elusive Firebird; hold it fast until it promises to stand your friend.
The journey will be long and the obstacles daunting,
but the magical creature will bring you good fortune at last

Dikt fra Tony Alvesang

Her laughter is the music being played in the street's of Rolia, 

her smile bears the light of the rising sun and 

her eyes brings the warmth and comfort of the kindest angle, 

her beauty is of such grand specter that 

even the god's them self are jealous of her magnificence  

Epilog

Begivenhetene i Dødens sal tok hverandre. Morania ble revet mellom ønsket om å flykte tilbake den trygge tilværelsen i Palasset med Alexander, og ansvaret for sitt rike og sitt folk. Hun hadde aldri vært så i vilråde som da beskjeden kom om at guder, orker og mennesker hadde brakt sammen på alle kanter og brakt kaos og krig til verden nok en gang. Hun trengte heldigvis ikke å ta noen avgjørelse. 

Alexander tok henne i armen og førte henne tilbake til Palasset på sitt eget magiske vis. I en fart fikk de tak i en prest og endelig ble Morania viet til mannen hun hadde lært å kjenne som stor, sterk og mektig, og som hun til og med hadde blitt glad i og kunne med rette kalle seg Keiserinne av Rolia. Det ble riktignok ingen lang og romantisk bryllupsreise, for Serima stod ved døra, og Alexander hadde ikke tenkt å la henne vente. Morania kjente følelsene rive da Alexander steg til hest og red inn i mørket, ut i krigen. Stolt av sin mann, men redd for hva som ventet...for ham, for riket, for folket, for henne....

Timer eller dager gikk, tiden fløt for Morania. Hun vandret dype spor i palassets saler og hager mens hun ventet på nyheter fra fronten, samtidig som hun egentlig ikke ville vite...inget nytt er godt nytt. Sannelig... en uke etter meldte speiderne at Roluns hær var på vei tilbake. Og ikke lenge etter braste General Maalt, hennes storebror, inn på gårdsplassen og bort til sin søster for å fortelle hva som hadde skjedd på frontlinjen. Alexander hadde kjempet mot Serima og var borte....

Han hadde spøkt med at Morania kunne ende opp som enke like fort som hun hadde blitt gift...Morania hadde ikke likt tanken og nektet å erkjenne den nå også. Alexander var ikke død, han var savnet. Morania hadde likevel ingen intensjoner om å sitte i Palasset og flytte på hans papirer og høre på hans rådgivere...uten ham. Hun er ikke noen bedre administrator enn noen andre, hun er en handlingens kvinne. Hun oppnevnte et råd til å styre sin plass, og ba handelsstanden og generalene om å velge sine representanter til rådet, samt alle Rolianske adelsfamilier. Deretter sendte hun ut et dekret om at Rolia fra nå var åpent for alle raser og religioner, og at Rolia ønsket fred.

Ved innsettelsen av rådet holdt Keiserinnen denne talen:

Jeg ble glad i Alexander, men det betyr ikke at jeg bifaller alt han har gjort, eller måten han styrte på. Han var ikke Rolianer, og hadde aldri kjent Rolias hjerte banke.  Mitt hjerte har alltid tilhørt Rolias folk, og jeg vil at riket igjen skal tilhøre dem. Han var Keiser over menneskeheten, jeg er Folkets Keiserinne.

Rolia er ikke en rase eller en religion. En Rolianer følger den guden den trenger mest, og tar vare på sin familie og sine venner, uansett hvilken opprinnelse de måtte ha. Vår nasjonale hymne sier alt, intet mer, intet mindre. Her er det plass til alle. Rolias hjerte vil alltid banke i Rolianerne, så lenge Rolianernes hjerte banker for Rolia.

La Rolia, vår alles føniks, reise seg igjen, børste asken av sine brusende fjær og spre sine vakre vinger nok en gang. La oss igjen bli det stolte riket som lever og lar leve, som ikke krever, men ærer Konger, Guder og mennesker.

I ly av sorgen over sitt folk og sin mann valgte Morania å trekke seg tilbake, og få har sett henne siden.

A strong woman

A strong woman is one who feels deeply and loves fiercely.

Her tears flow just as abundantly as her laughter.

A strong woman is both soft and powerful.

She is both Practical and Spiritual.

She embraces both light and darkness 

and fight the battles that meet her with peace

A strong woman in her essence is a gift to all the world.

Qui vincit -hvem vinner?

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

Fati domini

Jeg krabbet ut av mørket.
Krystalltårnene ventet på meg,
en by av lys hilste meg velkommen,
renset meg med ild og kledde meg med herlighet
Rikenes visdom kjempet for å fange meg
Verdens makt tok tak

Jeg reiste meg,
brøt gjennom som bølger over svakhet, som spyd gjennom kjøtt
Jeg tok tak og omfavnet min skjebne
Eid av riket, makten og æren, evig tro til min Herre