Conversations by the Fire

I stand here, in the centre of the timeline. Present. I turn towards the ones who came before me. I see you. I see the sorrow that was too much to hold. The pain that had nowhere soft to land. The places where life was cold, where blood was spilt, boundaries crossed, and support was scarce. And I feel how, out of deep loyalty, out of a young and innocent love, my body tried to carry what could not be completed before me. Today, something completes. I am ready. The burden can

The hammer rests by the forge today. The shoulders drop an inch, then two. It is the sound of the pottering, the tea, the quiet home that says: the nectar is already here. A seed is not a worker. It does not strain to be a flower - it simply unfolds because the soil is warm. I give the ache to the flame - the tightness in the jaw, the lie of the lone wolf, the old story of the arid ground I leave it for Brigid to turn into ash. And in the space that remains… there is La

In the shadowed hush of moonlight's grace, I stand, bare and boundless, in night's embrace. Ketu's fingers, cool and keen, Trace the edges of what has been. Rahu stirs where futures bloom, Stretching wide beneath the moon. I feel the pull, the tethered thread, Between what lives and what is dead. A tightrope strung from star to star, Carrying who we were, and are. Virgo's hands, with steady care, Sift the stories I still wear. Venus leans with tender eyes, Loving all that in