I am my mother's savage daughter
The one who runs barefoot
She looks for her omens
In the colors of stones
In the faces of cats
In the dancing of fire
In the curve of old bones
She sings heathеn songs
By the light of the moon
And dreams she can reach it
With a song & a broom
~ ~ ~
A small paraphrased extract from , “My Mother’s Savage Daughter” by Wyndreth Berginsdottir.
Art by Lucy Campbell, “The Calling Home”
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