There is an ancient, wise, and loving force that lives deep within the soul. It is not the tenderness that yields, nor the love that resigns. It is the love that rises. It is the mother who roars—the one who does not hesitate to get her hands dirty in defense of what she loves. The one who doesn’t ask for permission to protect life.
Mother Rage, Mother Courage. This is not empty violence, nor rootless fury. It is the sacred flame of instinct ignited when what we love is under threat. She is the one who shelters with one hand and wields fire with the other. The one who stands before the predator and says: “No more.” Without guilt. Without shame. With the dignity of one who knows that defending the fragile is not weakness—it is a profound act of love.
Because love, too, has claws. Because peace is not passivity, nor silence in the face of injustice. It is a bold choice, built day by day. A practice of resistance in a world that often wants us broken, obedient, cut off from our bodies and from our spirit.
This burning mother does not destroy for pleasure. She does not seek internal war. She seeks life. She defends life. And within her fire there is clarity, momentum, and healing power. She reminds us that rage is not always the enemy. Sometimes, it is an ally. When it aligns with the soul, it can carve paths of justice, of boundaries, of true and fierce love.
That mother lives within each of us. In every living being who cares, who protects, who says “no more,” who holds their people close and raises their voice. She is not a myth—she is real. She lives in the ones who have survived, in those who keep going, in those who, even in fear, dare to love fiercely and fight for what matters.
Because rage is not the opposite of love.
Many times, it is its shield.
And courage, the force that opens the world.
Christian Ortiz
Our Lady of the Night
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Nuestra Señora de la Noche 