Burn It Down, Baby Girl

Burn it down, baby girl, burn it down. Let the flames engulf the world that taught you to worry about what could go wrong instead of manifesting all that will be right, the world that taught you it was better to be frail than strong, to be mild instead of bold, to be complacent when you so longed for more.

Burn it down, baby girl. Let it burn. Let the flames overtake the world that made you think you are not enough, that you could never be enough; the world that made you feel that you couldn’t take up space; the world that begged you to shrink yourself; the world that wanted you to be just a shadow of all you were intended to be.

Let it burn, child, and let it burn brightly.

But, baby girl, don’t let it burn forever. After all, unbridled fury cultivates bitterness and hate. It’s only a matter of time before uncontrolled flames consume all of your goodness with all of the bad you’ve seen. You have to forgive. You have to forgive them, and you have to forgive yourself. You have to forgive without condition. You have to forgive with all you have.

Especially forgive yourself, baby girl. While it might seem impossible to forget the world’s trespasses against you, while it might be impossible to let go of the pain of those infractions, the only way we extinguish their impact is to forgive.

And then, from those ashes, you must rise. Rise, baby girl, with unapologetic passion. And rise, never letting anyone call you sweet baby girl again.

Because you are a woman, cloaked in power and strength. And, when they call you baby girl, they seek to tarnish and tilt the crown you wear. You are a woman who has burnt down her world and risen from the ashes. You are a Phoenix, sweet love, and don’t ever let them forget it; don’t ever let yourself forget it.