The Temple of Belonging

The Church of Fitting In
is a tattered doctrine
pedaling the snake oil
of self improvement
it sustains its dying creed
from your contortions
of worthiness

bending for approval
twisting for appreciation
bowing and scraping
in hopes of sanction
through the blood-art
of performance
prettiness and productivity

its prophets of profit
believe you are less than
and grow rich from
the spoils of your
complicit agreement

when you believe
their creed
you’ll purchase the diet
conceal the flaws
tweeze the unwanted
shave the unsatisfying
girdle your nature
deny your deep joy
sacrifice your pleasure
on the altar of pleasing others
and suffer the guilt
of every stolen freedom

in the unholy name of
fitting in
you’ll reject all that
doesn’t grant you
access to their
idea of perfection
and purchase
all that does

what they don’t profit from?
your belonging
there are no riches
in belonging, except
for the woman who is
willing to embody it

The Temple of Belonging
is golden
its hallowed ground
welcomes you as
both priestess
and acolyte
and adorns your shoulders
with the robes
of benefactress
and beneficiary

enter the covenant
of your sovereignty
become your own
drink from the chalice
of self worth
take communion with the
internal divine
swallow it down like
the seasons and seeds
of Persephone’s fruit


give voice to
the old songs
the ones that wolf
and moon and forest
still sing
dance out of Eden
feet drumming the
wayback wonder
chant the holy stories
the truth older than myth
that women
are the holy grail
conceiving, conjuring,
and delivering

worship at the
altar of your
soul’s deep content
like the moon-drunk
curve of lily
the garnet skin
of pomegranate
the ink spill arc
of raven’s wing
glorious in its unfolding
precisely as it is
wild, whole, free
perfect in relation
only to itself

kiss your curves
like a prayer
anoint your fingers
with honey
from your own jar
spread wings and legs
and heart in
flowered benediction

Become a disciple
of inner devotion
resurrect the silver salvation
of self respect
Believe in your self
and your wild holy heart
like its a sovereign religion

It is.

And the world
needs more

Author profile
Angi Sullins

Hi. I'm Angi.

I’m addicted to wonder. There, I said it.

I make videos, sing songs and write books that encourage wonder out in the world and inside the soul.

The very first video I made was for my inspired artist agency Duirwaigh Gallery in 2004. It was meant to be a love letter to the artists I represented, letting them know my agency would promote and defend their magical place in a practical world.

A Knock at the Door went viral before the age of YouTube in a person-to-person email phenomenon that circled the globe many times, inspiring over 4.5 million people.

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