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Death of a Wood Witch
image - Adam Bird Photography "It hurts," I cried.
"I know," replied the Witch of my soul, "And look, the Forest beckons."
So it did, once more, a thick underbrush of reckless vines, criss-crossing the broken parts, stitching them anew.
The churned Earth seemed to crumble underfoot, loose and unstable, broken down from all the wandering back and forth, back and forth, without real rest.
"The roots remain, deeper down," she croaked, knowing what was in my mind of course,
