Reformer of instinctual liberation
Ambassador of the Kama Surtra
Omnivorous nymph, embodiment of sexual perfection
Empress of empyrean stature
Naked mutable muse
Impious to some mundane masses
Debauched, daughter of Venus
by j.s. devins
for she whose name means princess
Sarah means Princess in Hebrew. Also ‘fiery one’, ‘discontent’ and also the Patron Saint of Gypsies.
I am those things.
I am in that photograph.
I am what was written above for me when I was 19.
I have no idea how he knew all of those things, we were never together. I was just a dumb, clumsy girl then.
That is what I saw. The general consensus of those who knew me when I was young is that I carried myself with some kind of terrifying grace. Tuesday’s child.
I am a magpie, a gypsy, I love all the colors, all things sparkly, I wander.
I am a water nymph, water is one of two places everything goes quiet for me.
I believe in fairies and ghosts. I think I am a fucking fairy which would explain my metabolism among other things.
I count crows and flip coins when I can’t make up my mind, but only if it’s important.
I spent a long time being angry. Hurricane Sarah is the rarest one of all, unless you are talking about me. I was a storm with skin. (BloodandFlowers)
I had a boss over 7 feet tall, he had to fire me after I threw the sharpest of tantrums, he said he had never been scared of anything like he was of me, in his office at that moment. I smiled, said I understood. I had my job back in a month.
That was in a time called ‘before’.
Now “I want people to hear a voice without hate in it”. ~ Pass the Light.
“Where were you?”
“I just got back from a place called ‘Say it, say it, say it. I said it.”
(Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip)
Writing is all I ever wanted to do.
Someone wanted to know who I am.
I can tell you what I am not.
January 26th 2009 I was driving my son home. We were in a near fatal collision. My 14 year old son pulled me from the wreckage. I overheard bystanders saying ‘there is no way anyone lived through that’. I corrected them.
He is made of rubber and was half asleep. Me? Saw it coming and braced for impact.
3 weeks later I saw two very distinct paths. Stay on opiates on the couch, get huge and live my life like that, if you can call that a life. Or get up.
I got up.
I was a wretched mess. Truth be told I was a mess before I got mangled and crushed. I used to have these panic attacks that would turn my limbs into tree limbs, my hands into claws, if I wasn’t hyper ventilating I wouldn’t have breathed at all. Every vein would stick out, I quite literally turned into a twisted tree, solid.
The next 18 months were the hardest I have ever been through. I had lost muscle memory, actual memory, a huge chunk of my vocabulary. I was an angry ghost floating around making everyone miserable, even me. I locked myself in my room for 3 months and screamed at anyone who tried to come in.
I got up.
I left my husband and the farm.
Got scared, wanted to go home.
He wouldn’t let me unless I went to therapy.
2 kinds. One traditional, with this woman who was made of kindness. She rescues horses and she rescued me.
Another woman who spoke in tongues, put rocks on me and pried open my third eye.
I left them both feeling better than I had since I was little.
Immediately back into an old familiar pattern. Abusive mediocrity.
Until one day, another 18 months later. This woman I hadn’t seen in a decade messaged me out of the blue. Showed up at my house, told me I had wandered off my path and she was here to get me back on it. She predicted the future, I believed her. She’s magical.
Here I am.
Gemini Wood Tiger.
40 times around the sun.
98% mobility, 90% vocabulary and all me.
Alone for the first time since my son was born, mostly.
Finally writing like I always wanted, someone 4 year old me would recognize and look up to. Fairy princess made of magic and love.
I still fall down, I just don’t stay down.
I have wings after all.