To the men, who are frozen: I have not heard your voice.
I have loved you.
I have healed you.
I have fucked you.
I have called out to your soul, when all the lights went out.
I have appeared to you in many small forms, that you would not be so fearful, that you should enslave and destroy.
I have sent my daughters to you, because your unexpressed wail was unbearable even to the high heavens, and you placed around her mightiness a collar, a cage, a rule of law designed to own the magic and power, the birthing principle of Creation.
This was not only misguided, but caused a spiritual death to descend upon the world, because when the Goddess allows you to put her in chains and drag her to the underworld, she rises as Persephone, and the power of mortal fear becomes useless against her.
And that was all there ever was.
To the men who are frozen:
I have not heard your voice.
Your pain will not be healed without Her, because when you raped her, you lost your nobility, and no worldly wealth can return it to you. Only her forgiveness can.
What say you, to the Goddess who rises as a wave of women: your daughters and mothers and sisters and wives?
What will you do, to make this right?
You can start, with being willing to be willing, to take redemptive measures, personally, in each moment such an opportunity falls upon you.
There are some wounds in men that only women can heal.
There are some wounds in women, only men can heal.
This is not magick. It is wholeness.
We are not here to flip the witch-hunt. We are here to end it.