Rooted

Peace is Sovereign Territory we Cultivate From Within

There’s a woman seated in the forest, dressed in roots.
She’s not trapped.
She’s rooted.

This morning, I woke shaking.
My body remembering.
Stories in the world tapping on old doors.

“No. Not this again.”
I cried.
When will it end?

For a moment, I wanted the memories gone — erased, buried, finished once and for all.

But wanting them gone is another form of resistance.

The truth is, it happened.
The truth is, I survived.
The truth is, my body still remembers.

There’s a woman seated in the forest.
She does not collapse.
Neither do I.

Today, I am not voiceless.
Today, I am not frozen.
Today, I sit.

Grounding can feel heavy.
But it is also holy.

Some men violated.
Some men protected.
I refuse to confuse the two.

I place my hand on the frame of the little girl on my desk.
“I’ve got you,” I tell her.

I place my hand on my heart.
I feel it beat.
I widen around the tightness.

Peace is not delivered to us.
It is sovereign territory we cultivate — fiercely and lovingly — from within.

We don’t reject victim or survivor.
We don’t shame those identities.
We simply don’t freeze there.

Victim was a season.
Survivor was a bridge.
Sovereign is a becoming.

There’s a woman seated in the forest, dressed in roots.

She’s not trapped.
She’s rooted.

And so am I.

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​​Lee Byrd
Mystic. Writer. Intuitive Guide
🪷Website: LeeByrdMystic.com
📧 Email: lee@lovemymysticlife.com
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