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,
Crown Yourself in Roses "That’s the thing about the Crow eyed women
With their lips bedecked in otherness
You might think for a moment they are infused with whimsy
But Morrigan made them with steel bones
We endure beyond the point of breaking..." - Joey Morris 'Crow Eyed Woman' It was Morrigan who whispered it, to crown yourself in Roses, deep in the middle of the night, when only the stars winked in their secret knowing, and I, halfway through the gate and certainly not
Here’s to the forgotten ones,
The lonely hearts,
Those who feel like they’re nobody’s first choice,
Who feel like outsiders all day long,
Misfits who can’t seem to relate,
The fragmented puzzle pieces,
The ones who silently observe wishing someone cared,
The not so popular anti conformists with loud opinions and bigger hearts,
The ones who stick out like sore thumbs,
The broken but thriving,
Those who aren’t ever given as much as they give,
The non in
"I know my Worth. I've paid dearly for every ounce of it." - Alfa Black soot stained feathers brush across my cheekbones, dappling ink across my flesh.
Experience is worn, painted on, from the dusty remnants of burning the defunct remnants of a former life, a constant reminder when the sting of memory fades and the tears are all spent. The Goddess Badb will always bring me back to myself, time and again, even when I find myself ashamed in the recalling.
Her crow-like shrill
art - Natalia Drepina Beautiful soul who sits on the ledge,
Their voice cracked at what they need to express,
But feel the icy grip terrorize their throat,
Wondering if they name that shame,
That burdens their entire being,
Causing flooding and earthquakes at a soul level,
Will be too much for someone else to hear, to accept.
When everyone has taught you that the only safety
Is in complete silence
And disregard for your pain,
How do you find your mettle, and tear op
art - kindranikolephotography Shadow priestess,
Walking that space where liminality weaves,
Lighting candles from the pain in your knees,
You have bent, you have crawled, you have run the gauntlet... And in so doing set fire ablaze from every graze,
Follow me, let me lead, I’ve been that way, I know that need. When your heart is broken in places, I shift between all Witch faces.
Priestess golden, shining, bleeding, poking the shadow in you too, That becomes a space unfet
photography - Michael Germosén Primal Woman, I call to you And speak of spitting fire and Ocean tide Swallowed whole by a passion of being
The lines in the dark blur into memory
Timeless and ageless as salt bought yearning
Teeth chatter and chomp through the pages of history Gnashing at an ode to freedom
Something in our loins
Mystery is not the unknowing
But the unlearning of a half measured truth
Matted in animal fur and war wounds
Spears held tight
image original -Jojopostfashion "Singing to the lost
That is the thing
I am not a shining beacon I do not guide
Thudding of blackened wings foretelling Death
Blood weaving entrails
Blood soaked prophetic weaving,
What entails within those entrails?
A savage lust,
You would demote us, sanitize us,
Saw down our vicious edges, Battle stance to nothing - a lovers grip?
We are Befallen
We are Fate and Death
We are the bone jaw snapping closed
A heavy gurgle of mans la
art - Natalia Drepina "You're a shadow priestess, you already know it speaks to the poison already in them and not you..." - Molly Roberts What does it mean to walk the path of a Dark Goddess, when the vibration of your soul, deep in your bones, infused within your very blood, calls out, screams for authenticity, and in so doing births a Shadow priestess? The calling aches and births us from pain, with pain, and for pain, embodying the wounded healer and receiving Chiron's ke
Image - Natalia Drepina source We remember. The lost ones, the broken ones, the hurting.
We remember the moments where we stared vacantly out into the world, feeling disconnected from it.
Our illusions shattered, the promises of a fair, safe, world dissolving at our feet. For myself, it was a moment in the back of a car, being driven away at 3am, watching the streets light blur into one another in a seemingly endless parade, each light stretching thin and eventually disap
I have been musing about how one takes control of ones own sovereignty in regards to the parts of ourselves that we might ‘give away’ in interactions with other people – whether unwittingly or knowingly, and the impact that it has on our selves. With steering the best course so one does not get trampled underfoot of the wants and desires of other people, and yet not to become tyrannical in our approaches. The balance between personal boundary and the urge to support others.