Seven Fires of the Feminine - Chapter IV - Shakti in the Bones

By Parijat Pathak

I used to think holiness lived outside of me—

in temples, chants, mountains that touched the sky.

But one day, my bones began to hum.

The sound was raw and ancient,

a memory older than pain.

My spine, once weary of holding worlds,

rose like a cobra uncoiling.

Every vertebra whispered sutras of endurance.

Every ache was scripture written in marrow.

Power was never about force.

It was the quiet defiance of existing—

in a body that had been told

it was not enough.

I learned to worship through breath,

to bow not down, but inward.

The goddess I sought was not in the altar—

she was the altar.

And every step I took

was prayer returning home.

Bone hums like temple—

flesh remembers it is flame,

and calls it sacred.

By Parijat Pathak