Light the fires,
spread the ashes -
our faces will illuminate with truths,
it has rained
in leaden storms that have amassed
at the parting of my hair, and yet
softening; tendrils of love
All the obstacles we have overcome;
we will leap the flames,
but it will be no proof against witches.
The oak leaf, the green wood,
the resilience of the holly -
a trading of goddesses,
the motion of a star;
the sun is fickle and
always changing its mind.
Now a reversal,
the triumph of bright,
the rise of darkness
ebbs and flows.
It can feel like a kairotic moment,
in the way that words are slippery -
these are the variables of hope.
Image from pixabay. Painting also on Twitter from here: