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,

I am Her And She is me The guardian in woad A story screams Across the void Marked in battle lines I hear her scream Guttering The pitch black chord of night I am her and She is me There is no true divide I cross the ocean bruised And weary To speak at fire side The lightning calls As once it did The drums of war unfold I am Her And She is me The warrior in woad – Joanne Morris 2017 all rights reserved #war #woad #warrior #dancer #ancestor #celtic #celt #p