Crooked by Amoret BriarRose My serpentine spine did not gift Eve with the apple; good posture is not magic is not a cure-all is not integrity made flesh. Featured Image: Mariana in the South, 1897, John William Waterhouse [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons
Ehwaz/The Horse by Amoret BriarRose I approach her slowly, bit of apple in my hand, hoping to coax her? Befriend her? I'm not sure either is truly possible. I know in my heart: she is a wild thing though the path near the fence is deep and worn and her warm breath fogs the air... Continue Reading →
The Risk by Amoret BriarRose They say that a bridge is no country and thus I wonder, when I reach out, extend toward another, do I then lose sovereignty to gain connection, risk self to touch other... or do we blend together, boundaries wavering as watercolors, soaking up the pigment of what we become together?
I am ready to meet the autumn, picked for a twilight brew ready to know the tastes so bitter on Her tongue. Not all mothers birth.
Never grow a wishbone where your backbone ought to be. ~Clementine Padford A Spine For All Seasons by Amoret BriarRose And if your spine was a sword, what then? Could it bear the weight of all seasons, cutting when necessary blessing when necessary knowing hearts are both stones and feathers?
I have my copy of Three Drops from a Cauldron's Lughnasadh 2016 anthology in hand! Get yours here! Featured Image: Mushrooms by Amoret
Reciprocity by Amoret BriarRose The Ancestors call. I pour the water, light the candles, sing the songs and suddenly legions are behind me, washing me forward on waves of blood memory. Image: Birth the Dream by Amoret