"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
Remember when I blog posted about the archetype of the Story teller? This is the extension of that message. The obligation to write our own stories. The call to #breakthemold when it comes to who we want to be. In a world where we are handed a role, it’s our prerogative – if not a downright personal necessity – to question that, smash it, rewrite it… You are not small. You cannot be defined simply and indeed, every person exists between the lines. No matter what is written, i
“In the Spring Kissed Woodland
Dances bare a Maid
Young and pure and lovely
Strong and unafraid
She speaks of Birth and Promise
Of all the things that grow
Of all the steps you’ve yet to take
Of all you’ve yet to know.
So take her hand and breathe
And dance upon the Earth
For the promise of Hope and Joy
Life begins with Birth.” – Joanne Morris All my own work and design all rights reserved #wood #woodland #maiden #goddess #hope #breath #birth #po #poet #poetry #poe