In silence, a single voice is not heard.
What is heard is a multitude
that was never truly separate.
Within me speaks the one who remembers the beginnings,
the one who knows how the world is born from darkness.
Her voice is slow, dense,
and carries the weight of creation.
Within me awakens the one who softens,
who touches wounds without questions
and turns them into passages.
Her word is like water
that does not explain, but releases.
There is also the one who stands upright,
silent and unyielding,
guardian of boundaries and truth.
Her silence is a law
that asks no permission.
They do not speak at the same time.
They take turns like waves of consciousness,
like memories that arrive
when the body is ready to listen.
I do not summon them.
They appear
when I stop making myself smaller.
And then I understand,
the voices of goddesses are not outside of me.
They speak through me
when I am whole
and quiet enough to let them pass.