In the beginning...

Well, the beginning of 1979.

January 7th 1979

1:03 PM

Clare, Michigan

Capricorn Sun.

Waxing Gibbous Moon.

I am the moon becoming —

My light grows with intention,

Obedient to a light, not my own.

My story unfolds in divine rhythm.

God Himself alone knows when I will arrive.

(Chant)

Capricorn Spirit.

Capricorn Soul.

Capricorn Goddess.

(Chant)

A pink Nova,

A purple Nova,

A teal Nova

Collided

And exploded

Into what is me.

Comets prayed the day I was born.

For even they knew I was not to be normal.

The sky was not normal that fateful day.

It was what I would come to call:

Cosmic chaos.

(Chant)

I was born from cosmic chaos.

I embody cosmic chaos.

I am cosmic chaos.

I am three in one.

Polish.

Chippewa Indian.

African American.

Part of me stole land from another part of me.

In order to enslave the other part of me.

I sip moonlight from chipped teacups.

I trade secrets with unicorns,

Who forget they're not gods.

I talk to fairies,

And mermaids taught me how to sing.

I do not age.

I smoke.

I do not use sunscreen.

I do not have a skin care regime.

And yet, I look young enough to be your daughter

And I'm old enough to be your mother.

Eight is one.

And one is eight.

No, I do not suffer from multiple personality disorders.

I do, however, suffer from multiple personas within me.

The Sovereign Mother: Soft, unconditionally loving, fiercely protective.

The Queen of Resilience: Resilient in everything.

The Catholic Witch: Catholic, yes. Wiccan, yes. Duality of faith, balance, harmony.

The Inked Witch: The writer, love, passion, romance, promiscuous, flirtatious, very dangerous.

The Visionary Alchemist: Transmutation, transferring the bad to good.

The Esoteric Oracle: The interpreter, the reader between the lines.

The Capricorn Goddess: Ambition, discipline, leadership, creative, the climber, the goat.

The Goddess Julie Durga: Lineage, legacy, birth, the author.

I descend, not by blood

But by ink and ache.

And lack of breath —

Poe’s darkness,

His obsessions.

This is mirrored in my writing.

Shakespeare’s immortal tongue,

He believed in using many.

My many personas capture this.

Billie Holiday’s broken velvet voice,

We both know how to bend a note

And turn ache and heartbreak

Into something beautiful.

The asthmatic St. Bernadette

And her holy visions.

She told of her visions, I write of mine.

But there is more when it comes to this little saint.

We both arrived on January 7th, Capricorn twins.

We both struggle for air; for breath.

She went home in 1879.

I came to be in 1979.

Three children I bore in blood and bone:

Zjulida: my little princess, successor to my crown.

Caezar: My superhero, I am his favorite heroine.

Sizjule: the light of my life, my Horizon Child.

I am a mother,

Yet, due to circumstances

Beyond my control

I have nothing to mother;

Except for my triple threat,

My Bear Child: Makwa

Makwa: black lab, pitbull, border Collie.

Demands head scratches,

Belly rubs,

And a plethora of treats.

Will side eye you while you're eating.

And look away and pretend she was never looking at you.

The comets were right.

There is nothing normal about me.

And if there were—

You wouldn’t like me.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Normalcy is overrated.

When I arrive,

With my triple threat Bear Child at my heels,

The crown slips from its place.

And I stare in awe at the view.

The crown may fall.

I remain.