(For an explanation of the dedmatâ, click here)
There is knowledge in the letters of each word, if people see them.
The tongue is sweet, and the sweat is sweeter than tears, child.
What do you not need? Be descriptive – people do not read minds.
Your four walls build up
towards the sky,
a sword thrust high.
The vessel must hold
for the cup to overflow.
Buried deep within your soul,
the earth is resting, waiting.
We are locked in and waiting,
our arms wide open for you.
Sisters stand tall in the shadows.
Strength in numbers – in them, rest and reward.
In your juices, there is a map of man,
an imprint from the gods – demystify it.
Us sisters hold the light, burning brightly above your head – breathe.
Fate tastes like violets, the blue crush in the heartbeat close;
in the throw of the bones, the marrow spills, smiling upon the embrace.
Those around you lift from the hips – do the work.
Mother heals, the air knows all of you – breathe in, breathe out.
Grandpa gave me his name in the tree rings, and called me a doll.
The blood is thick with fruit planted long ago –
don’t ignore that, work through it.
Dig your fingers into the dirt,
the promise of the microbial Earth.
This good, rich air through the lungs
embraces all of whom you are – so be at peace.
Welcome home to the sett, roamer –
this is your dirt as much as mine, so wallow in it.
Home is where the heart is at its home.
Its calm sits low in the waves, and that’s alright.
Reemerge, covered in dirt from the grave.
You are golden in the night,
she who sharpens claws against the cave door, smiling.
Grannus and Sironâ:
Was it a sign?
Carved on the anatomy,
everything is a sign.
Flip a coin,
and while it catches the light, dance.
Either way, it is gold.
Read the fine print
and the large print
with open eyes.
Waxing and waning
are normal and expected –
The liminal is not good for seeking rest –
commit to your better self.
Io! I thank your guiding hand
for strapping wings to my fears
and setting them free – bless you, Carnonos.