Mantis

The first time I saw a praying mantis in the wild was in 2022, and she was left for dead, wings and body flattened in the road. I cried. I knew exactly how she felt.

This morning, I listed my abusers on Threads. Since it isn’t safe for me to name them, I shared my age and who they were to me at the time.

Right after I posted, movement on the porch caught my eye.

A praying mantis came to visit.

She rested on the railing, head swiveling in my direction as I stepped onto the porch.

“Hey,” I said softly.

I would’ve loved to hold her, but I didn’t want to scare or hurt her; my muscles are weak and tremoring from a lupus flare after yet another round with covid, and I didn’t want to drop her or worse. So we just rested in each other’s calm presence for a few while I wished her safety and good eats.

Mantises carry deep meaning in many cultures, like stillness, foresight, and confidence. They also eat males after mating.

My visitor this morning symbolized a full circle. The first time, I felt as destroyed as the creature in the street. Many tried to crush my wings over the years. Every time, I rebuilt myself sronger.

And I can always reassemble.

It’s been a long, slow six years full of grief, lessons, waiting. The mantis represents careful consideration before sudden movement, something I’m pretty familiar with. When one visits, it means it’s time for confident action, and prosperity is coming.

I’m ready.