[Anointed Women] To the ones whose lips scorch against the prescribed liturgy and burn up the pages of church history, and those who trail hot coals behind them into confession and suffer the legacy of harlot, witch heretic; to the ones with a hunk of apple lodged in their throats that burns and gags and tastes of Eve’s tears, who have their hands plunged into scalding water for touching (defiling) the holy books, I say to you: claim your birthright.I say to ones with prayers written in broken promises on their skin; light the offerings of your forefathers. Wring the last drop of magic out of the old mysticisims, Prostrate yourself in the wilderness, fast, sing. Garner a following, devotees strung like beads on the necklace of your faith. Prophesy in the name, be the ruination of kings and countrymen if God wills it. When they ask you where you learned the words “spiritual authority” and you begin to wonder if you are indeed worthy, remember these words: That fire knotted deep in your stomach? It is the inheritance of the prophets, the righteous Pentecost flames not meant for man alone. And that bit of poison fruit sticking in your gullet? It is only your Mother, reminding you that you are Rahab, Miriam, Deborah, Priscilla, apostles and seeresses and mothers and warriors with flaming hearts meant to beat uncaged and unashamed. So paint your lips with the blood of the martyrs, proclaim your trespasses alongside your brothers, and hold your head high when they try and deny you the right to teach. For you are made in the image of a God who is anything but silent.