Lumalia standing near an ocean edge with her hand out and text over image that says "no more lies"

I must tell my truth. There is no more air in my lungs that will speak any more lies that cost me my oxygen. 

One Sunday, I worried she was gone like the King tide of the past winter where the ocean touched the tips of the land’s edge. She wasn’t a tsunami or storm, just a powerful force that shifted every ounce of sand. Except she isn’t, my inner voice of truth; in fact, she’s become so loud it isn’t the missing that’s happened. The change in her notes struck a deep chord in me named Fear. 

Once you let it out your truth and power, you cannot return to being small. It’s no wonder the patriarchy has been playing this game for so long. Once we all truly become unleashed, everyone will experience abundance, not just those who want to oppress in their restrictive neckties and slicked-back looks polished to remove any ounce of gratitude for being mostly water, plant, and atomic matter. Just proclaiming “manpower, no matter the cost!” 

You cannot trample me down. I will not be quieted anymore. This mysterious bone that holds vibrations has learned the exact tone that can shatter every imaginary world you told me I must live in. 

Oh, you think you’re so clever creating, except you forgot the most critical piece. Come close so I can whisper it just in case you miss it; you’re utterly narrow-visioned, I know. 

I AM A CREATOR TOO! I prayed to god to free me of my anger, and she did. I prayed to god for those green lights; she lit them all up. I prayed to god for my husband to love; she showed me I was her. She gave me the strength to see it was me. I wanted me to love ME! 

“But I have so much to give!” I spilled out in reply as I wrote the poetry I wanted to lather a lover in.

Then she gently spoke through beautiful voices, as she always does, and said, “Darling, you deserve to be loved by another too. What would he look like?” 

I dreamt I prayed for the first time in forever since I let go of the prayers to Jesus, who just came to remind us we are him, her, god, we’re all just one. I asked. “I want a Leo, who is tall, brunette, and absolutely loves to use his tongue. He has two daughters from a past marriage. Oh, and don’t forget that his family has orange trees. Yes, those delicious fruits that keep me soaking up all the sunshine.” 

Then one month later, I told my first husband I was done pretending he could love me the way I deserved to be and the way I wanted to worship. Except I didn’t know it was him until I said no more to the lie. The week before, I’d met the Leo with the two daughters, a tall brunette who loved using his tongue and had a family with an orange tree in their backyard. A week later, I found his name; I call him my Moon, for he knows how to perfectly reflect my Sun.

You see, over and over again, I’ve learned everything is made up. I’m no longer listening to the story you told me I had to be in because, honey, we’re dreamers, we’re creators now; every single one of these trillion cells listens to this truth, and it’s going to set every single lie aflame.