A Blood Prayer To The Full Moon

Lovers this has been a long-time coming. Some time ago, during a Blood Moon in 2016, I was feeling a really strong pull towards the Moon, as a lot of us I think were around that time. A pull to our roots, to our nature, to our ancestors, to our magic. Then, during a particularly strong moon, I got my period. I felt connected, completely. Blood, water, earth and air, ancestry and fire. They were all there. I sat down in front of my laptop, and wrote a prayer. I put it away. On another Full Moon I was pulled toward my prayer and I started drawing. And so on and so forth, for the past couple of years, when I bleed to the Full Moon, when She has called for me, I have replied by working on this prayer. I believe it is a spell in the making, a work of art to connect us to our bodies, to connect us to nature. It is a Bleeder’s prayer, but it is not only for bleeders. It is for the Bodies that miss Themselves. That feel disconnected. It is a call back home from the soil. Today, March 1st 2018, there is another Full Moon and I now offer this prayer to you, finally, to speak to you. It is not only about blood but about belief, identity, and our own godliness. I hope you find yourself somewhere in there. If you feel inspired by it, read below for a call to bleeder stories and art.

I wish the energy of the Full Moon may remind you of your humanity in any way that allows you to be compassionate with yourself and those around you tonight. Let us offer all our pain, all our sorrows, to the Esoil, that in this day and age is so filled with blood. Let us remember the Cycle, surrender to it, and in Faith, offer our healing to it as well. Let us cry for those that have died deaths in blood, and breathe in our own lives, with the knowing that they are free from the Earth’s troubles now.

A Blood Prayer to the Full Moon, but also to You, brother, sister, sibling, who remains alive in a bloody life.

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A Shunned Miracle, A Stolen Secret, A Raging Storm. Waters Fluctuate. I only speak to the ones that understand.

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My body prayed to the Full Moon and she prayed back in aches and groans…I mirrored the Moon and she mirrored back in Spells and Blood
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I am shedding a past that was also a future, it is all of time And it is everywhere, pouring out of me…Into the Earth, into its grave, into the soil, to feed, and give life

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perfect creatures

drowning in salt water

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FIN

(((Full Prayer BELOW)))

I heard a song about a girl named Lucy
Maybe that’s who’s listening now
Dear Lucy…

Listen,
I can feel the moon pulling at me
It’s willowing in the loins of the Earth,
under my belly.
It used to whisper “womanhood” now I’m not sure what it says
but I know it’s magic

Dear Lucy

I’m bleeding,

And it is a miracle that they tell me not to talk about.
“It is innapropriate” they say,
to speak about the blood
that connects me to the water
of creation itself
A Shunned Miracle,
A Stolen Secret,
A Raging Storm.
Waters Fluctuate.
I only speak to the ones that understand.

I was praying to the moon
and your name came up
with the twinkling of the stars
a myth
told only by moonlight
Of a girl

In the sky with diamonds

she too bleeds
she bleeds stardust
the ashes that create us

My body prayed to the full moon and she prayed back
in  aches and groans
I mirrored the moon
and she mirrored back
In spells and Blood

I am shedding a past that was also a future
it is all of time
and it is everywhere
Pouring out of me

And into the earth
Into its grave
into the soil
to feed and give life

And once a month my shadow whispers my  name

as I get on my knees
And howl to the moons
And it chants secrets to me in my dreams

The chanting

Of all those women
with the same stories
all of fire. earth. water. blood.

The stories we wrote about
the girls we fell in love with
and the boys who broke our hearts

the stories about the perfect creatures we wanted to be,
and the tragically imperfect beings we found we were.
Imperfect, but magical. Bleeding. Alive.

This is not for those that do not hear it
but for us who can’t ignore it.
This is not for those who face the ocean
thinking they would come out alive
but for those that surrendered to it,
drowning our fears and baptizing our selves with salt water
In the name of Life.

For those reborn once a month.
For those who believe in the magic. Our magic.

Were I to ever forget
the moon is there reminding,
the cycle demanding

a blood sacrifice monthly.
And i remain always
its loving servant

If you’re an artist and were inspired by this and wish to be a part of an exposition that features these type of vibes in 2019, write me at: maelle@colormaelle.com

Also, Looking for bleeder stories of ALL bodies, special invite to trans bodies and other-abled bodies.

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Cuando te dejan

“You have to understand”
they tell me
Not realizing that I’m going through something similar
if not worse

my reality has always been doubted
looked upon like maybe
i’m exaggerating
“just think positive thoughts”
they would tell me
“you have the power”

And now these same people
finding that it is not
that easy to think positive thoughts
that some things
are in fact
worth mourning
are telling me I don’t understand
that pain is theirs to claim
like I have not been intimate friends with it
for as long as I can remember
like I haven’t learned to carry
wars that aren’t mine
foreign struggles
mysterious torments
endless suffering
stubborn melancholy
Like I haven’t learned to live
in hell itself.
Like I’m just a little girl,
and not the many women
that cry inside of me as well.
Like I have no wisdom to offer
on what it feels like to hurt
and not have anyone but yourself
to blame.

Tell me what hurts more
Ending your own life,
Or giving birth to yourself
over and over again?

Tell me what hurts more
Dying at the hands of others
Or choosing not to live by your own free will?

Tell me what hurts more
someone leaving you for their freedom
Or someone leaving you for their pain?

I’ve been taught to not compare the pain
That compassion has no judgment
There is no better or worse
simply context
and our will to deal

I’ve been told to understand
But I do.
And that’s what I’ve been trying to say.
I do understand.

But understanding doesn’t make it hurt less.
Understanding doesn’t make them stay.
Understanding doesn’t mean strength.

All understanding does is show you
they can’t abandon you
if they were never there
to begin with.
All understanding does is show you
there’s only ever you
taking yourself out of here
over and over again
And all the people that love you
waiting on you the other side saying
“welcome back. we missed you”
All understanding does is show you
that the most painful abandon
is when you leave yourself.

Before, now, then

I.
“You should have said something sooner”
I said to him
seeing in his eyes
all the men
that had failed to speak from their heart
whether we didn’t teach them
or they didn’t learn
seems irrelevant now
as we are both hurting
my eyes wet with all the women
that were told to hold down their heart down their throat
alone
and who fought to be heard
who protected their heart
through pride
through anger
through denial
through pretension
How pretentious I had been
How necessary it had been
Before

II.
Maybe had he said something sooner
it would not have been heard
maybe if he didn’t say anything sooner
is because we weren’t listening
How much can we blame
our pain on others
when we are always
just
as
complicit
if not
more
How much was I to blame as well?
Before

III.
This is when forgiveness chimes in
This is when compassion whispers
This is when wisdom hums
This is when experience smiles
This is when I realize that
blaming
is a waste of time
that I could be
efficiently hurting
to efficiently heal
blaming
is just a repetitive lie
that I have no power
over how you make me feel now
Before
maybe I was your prisoner
but now
right now
I am un-fuckable-with.

IV.
How many lies
that my mother told me
were told to her?
how many times
did our fathers’ mistakes
pour down our hearts
as we made promises
we didn’t understand how to keep
how many mistakes
did our parents forgive themselves for
while we point fingers and say “still”
“don’t hurt” we say
while we bleed on their carpet

How many weak men, brave women, lost souls
how much more lying
until you look at yourself
and realize
your biggest truth
would never have existed
had it not been for the lies
and your biggest bravery
not happened
had it not been for the biggest weaknesses
how many more turns around the sun
before we realize
we owe our victories
to their mistakes
how many more
turns
until we see that through our mistakes
we are still their biggest victories
until we see the echoes of our
infant cries
nested in the wrinkles of their hands
our color of brown
in their eyes
their prayers of protection
keeping us bold
while we defy them
how many more turns of the sun
until we see the us in them
and forgive ourselves
and forgive them

until we see them in us
and forgive ourselves
and forgive them

-“things i write to myself in my sleep”

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