I am healing and my healing will heal the women in the lineage of my bloodline. I will heal my mothers and my grandmothers and my aunts. I will heal my ancestors. I will heal with hopes of liberating and breaking generational trauma and cycles. I heal with blood and sweat and tears. I rip into the wound and settle into the dark warm walls of the womb to be reborn. I heal to remind my mothers of the ways they healed themselves before, of the magic hidden to them but seen by all. There is coal down in their bellies. Still warm, still burning, amber ashes that can ignite again. I heal to teach them that fire can burn again, to not be afraid of being burnt alive. You will always rise.