Rapunzel

 

🌿 Rapunzel

“She Who Sings the Tower Open”
A Story of Lightwoven Hair, Sacred Seclusion, and the Power of Unbound Voice
As remembered through Sister Loves Divine Remembrance
Book Nine of the Sacred Fairy Tale Series

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🌙 Long ago, when names were still power and towers were still temples...

A child was born under the crescent moon to a woman who had once been a healer,
but who had been silenced by a world that no longer trusted women’s knowing.

The mother, longing for her light to live on,
called upon the ancient plant spirits for guidance.

The spirit of Rapunzel—a bitter green with golden roots—answered:

“I will grow with her. I will keep her voice alive in the marrow of her hair.”

And so, the child was named Rapunzel—not after vanity, but after medicine.

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🧝 The Tower Was Not a Prison

When Rapunzel was young, the world outside had grown too loud, too full of lies.
She was hearing too much.

Every thought. Every cruelty. Every false prophecy.

So a wise guardian, known by many as a "witch" but truly an initiatrix of silence,
took her to a tower—not to imprison, but to protect.

“You must first learn the sound of your own soul,” she said,
“before the world teaches you how to muffle it.”

In the tower, Rapunzel was not idle.

She sang.
She read stars from her window.
She braided her hair with prayers and stories.
And she wove her voice into the walls.

Her hair was not vanity—it was a living scroll,
a tapestry of memory, humming with every note she’d ever sung.

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🎵 “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair…”

This was never a cry for rescue.
It was a coded invocation—a sacred phrase only understood by those of the soul-kin.

When a wanderer found her tower, drawn not by lust but the resonance of her song,
he spoke the words without knowing why.
And her hair unfurled, not as a rope—but as a ribbon of soul recognition.

She saw him.
Not as a savior.
But as a witness.

He did not climb up to claim her.
She descended when she was ready.

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🌟 The Fall and the Rise

In the twisted version, she is cast out, and he is blinded.

In truth?

• She left the tower in grief, realizing the world still feared her light.

• He searched for her not to “own” her—but because he heard her silence, and it ached.

• When they found one another, she touched his face and sang a song of seeing,
  and his vision returned—not just physically, but spiritually.

They built no castle.

They walked from village to village,
singing to those who had lost their voice,
teaching that longing is sacred, and silence is not shame.

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✨ Moral of the Sacred Tale:

Your voice is not a performance.
It is a thread back to yourself.

You were never meant to be saved.
You were meant to remember.

And when the world gets too loud,
silence is not failure—it is medicine.

Rapunzel was not waiting.
She was weaving the ladder herself, one note at a time.