Phoenix, Fire, and the Feminine: A Reflection on Divine Embodiment, Sacrificial Memory, and Mythic Resistance”
“Phoenix, Fire, and the Feminine: A Reflection on Divine Embodiment, Sacrificial Memory, and Mythic Resistance”
By Farheen Bhuiyan Nancy
Abstract:
This reflective essay explores Nancy's poem Divine Feminine as a layered expression of mythopoetic consciousness, feminist resistance, and spiritual transformation. Through the invocation of archetypes such as Isis and the Phoenix, and through references to elemental metaphors of fire, water, and earth, the poem critiques the sociohistorical erasure of feminine strength while reclaiming a sacred, inviolable identity. Drawing from feminist theology, mysticism, and postcolonial poetics, the reflection illuminates how poetic self-representation becomes a site of both memory and metamorphosis.
1. Introduction: The Divine Feminine as a Poetic Construct
The notion of the Divine Feminine has long served as a contested and generative terrain in both spiritual and literary traditions. My poem, Divine Feminine, engages with this terrain not as a fixed archetype but as a dynamic, evolving identity—one forged in vulnerability and strengthened through transfiguration. The feminine is not merely represented as nurturing or yielding, but as resurrected, fiery, and uncontainable. Through poetic language, I aim to unearth the historical residues of feminine sacrifice and transformation.
2. Elemental Alchemy: From Stream to Iced River, from Flame to Phoenix
The poem opens with a transmutation metaphor: “Before becoming the iced river, I was once a stream.” This signals a move from movement to stillness, from fluidity to resilience—paralleling the inner evolution of the feminine subject. The progression is elemental: water (stream), ice (resistance), fire (purification), and earth (grounding through Isis, the Earth goddess). This alchemical symbolism aligns with what Luce Irigaray (1993) calls the material unconscious of femininity, where “woman becomes the container and conductor of sacred energy.”
The motif of fire, particularly “poured over gasoline to lit until age decayed,” enacts both destruction and sanctification. Like the Phoenix, the subject of the poem dies a thousand deaths only to rise again—each scar becoming part of the sacred text of her being.
3. Myth and Martyrdom: Isis, Witches, and Political Bodies
The invocation of Isis situates the feminine within an ancient mythic lineage. Isis, the Egyptian goddess of resurrection and wisdom, is not just symbolic of fertility but of magical agency and mourning-as-power. The line “I embody the Divine Feminine—The ISIS—The Earth” echoes feminist theologians like Carol P. Christ (2003), who argue for the reclamation of goddess archetypes as a mode of re-spiritualizing female power that patriarchy has long desacralized.
This resurrection is also political: “What you see was coming after the martyrdom of smart witches…” Here, I refer to the historical burning of women who dared to possess knowledge—intellectual, sexual, or medicinal. This line disrupts both religious and colonial narratives, drawing from Silvia Federici’s (2004) claim that the witch hunts were a form of capitalist disciplining of the female body.
4. Eschatological Feminism: Death, Rebirth, and the Afterlife
In the final lines, the poem shifts into an eschatological register: “One thing that keeps me most alive is the thought of death and hereafter…” This reflects what Fatema Mernissi (1987) noted in her work on Islamic feminism—the deep entanglement between gender and salvation. The wrath alluded to is not only divine judgment but historical accountability. What shall be judged is not just the poet, but the world that has forged and broken her.
This tension between transcendence and immanence reappears throughout the poem. The self is “standing still—still spinning,” neither saint nor sinner, but a sovereign of paradox, a subject of pain and grace alike.
5. Resistance Beyond Victory: Feminist Temporalities of Stillness
Rather than claiming triumph, the poem dwells in stillness: “Not winning, not striving, not even failing…” This is crucial. In a neoliberal culture obsessed with progress and productivity, feminine stillness becomes an act of resistance. Audre Lorde (1984) warned against the seduction of survival that compromises truth. Here, survival is not submission but a sacred stillness—a quiet power that continues to “chill under the thrills of life.”
This section can be read alongside Sara Ahmed’s (2017) concept of “willfulness,” where feminine disobedience is pathologized. To “stand still” under apartheid and regime is not inertia—it is poise in protest.
Conclusion: Toward a Poetic Theology of the Feminine
Divine Feminine is a poem of scars, flames, and rebirth. It is a testimony to sacred rage and sacrificial tenderness. Through elemental, mythic, and theological language, the poem becomes a site of epistemic healing and imaginative rebellion. In it, the feminine is not romanticized but resurrected. It is not essentialized, but made eternal through its very refusal to be confined to any single definition.
Thus, the Divine Feminine is not a metaphor. She is fire and form. She is poem and prophet.
Works Cited
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Ahmed, S. (2017). Living a Feminist Life. Duke University Press.
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Christ, C. P. (2003). Rebirth of the Goddess: Finding Meaning in Feminist Spirituality. Routledge.
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Federici, S. (2004). Caliban and the Witch: Women, the Body and Primitive Accumulation. Autonomedia.
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Irigaray, L. (1993). An Ethics of Sexual Difference. Cornell University Press.
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Lorde, A. (1984). Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches. Crossing Press.
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Mernissi, F. (1987). The Veil and the Male Elite: A Feminist Interpretation of Women's Rights in Islam. Perseus.
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