The Alchemy of Sacred Rage

The incense burns with a borrowed flame,

In a room that’s branded in someone else’s name.

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They sell the “Om” and the “Peace” and the “Grace,”

While they scrub the truth from the lines on my face.

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Third time’s the charm, or so they say

But the charm has broken, and I’ve walked away.

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You trade in a lineage you didn’t earn,

Building altars from wood you’re afraid to burn.

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You call it “completion,” you call it “your peace,”

But it’s just a debt that you’ve failed to release

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Eight hours of sweat, eight hours of soul,

Tossed in the void of your self-serving hole.

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I see the pattern, the pale, hollow theft,

The extraction of magic until nothing is left.

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You want the rhythm, the dance, and the light,

But you stone-wall the woman who stands for her right.

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You hide behind mantras to mask the “business,”

But the Universe isn’t granting forgiveness.

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I am the daughter of those who survived,

Whose practices kept your “wellness” alive.

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Yet you stand at the gate with a key that’s been faked,

Ignoring the thirst that you’ve never once slaked.

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You take and you take, then you label me “tough,”

Because I finally decided that enough is enough.

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The empty seat at my table remains,

I’m washing the ink and the blood from the stains.

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No more supporting the ones who extract,

I’m signing my name to a different pact.

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Burn the letter, post the truth, seal the door

I don’t carry the weight of your lies anymore.

- Poems by P

When certain people are no longer a frequency match, the universe will naturally allow them to fall away. In my case, a necessary boundary required me to speak my truth rather than bow to the comfort of spiritual bypassing. When I finally refused to be small, my voice was met with censorship - a public deletion meant to silence the distortion.

But anger is a sacred catalyst, and that very silencing is what birthed this poem.

Let this be a reminder that when a door is closed and locked from the inside, it is often because that room has nothing left to teach you. New paths are already opening, illuminated by a cleaner, more honest light. Trust the shedding. Everything is exactly as it should be.