And they held her there, chained to her heart. But this time she fought them. Deep in her body it built and there wass a deep growl that escaped from her lips. She threw them off of her heart and they fought but she wasn’t afraid this time. They no longer had a hold on her. And the magic shot out of her body – long waves of it and it reached out to the world. This is mine, you can not take it, for I am powerful.
But deep inside, the love still lived for him and she was afraid of that love, afraid that she would let it trap her again. She did not know how to love and be powerful. Somehow to love meant to stand in the mud, hold her breath and not move. It meant to be silent and forget about the rest of the world. How could it be that love wasn’t connected?
To join the pulsing of the world was true connection but this love was not that. So her wings still sagged at that thought and it made her sad. But she decided to lift her feet out of the mud. They’re we’re stiff with disuse but also eager to join the dance. To give up on control and dance with the fireflies at night, to sing the songs of healing and love and to start to heal herself again. To learn that all healing starts within.