Dance with death around your neck. Lie under my feet in peace.
A goddess of transformation requires endings for change. Where and when will the ending come? The way I spend my day? Just a little change? On the trail without my mace?
I have a friend whose face is stressed with death. Spends his nights restlessing with the blessed Black Mother. What can I say? The only things I know: love, chaos, kissing, flow, saying what you mean when a loved one goes (even just for groceries). These are the only things I know-but I’m listening every day for more ways. I too sing these-but for me they come in the shadows of the day; the darkness between the rays.
Endings are fearsome things because fierce joy is just on the other side.