little one of ash and ember. remember your power. drawn up through layers of earth and decay, through dancing bones, through frost and feather. don't forget. your rage is a boon. it can ignite the flame that will burn through your choker of thorns. made from bramble bushes covered in bleeding berries, the tiny spikes press delicate blades into skin dripping honey. bathe in rose water rivers and press the petals to your heart. the bees know how to make love to the flowers.
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i seek the mountains, the highlands, the earth that reaches upwards. cold air and clouds that eat the land. i float atop waterfalls that spiral in concentric circles of electric violet light, dropping down into voids of memory and dreaming. the trickling song of the stream dancing on the rocks fills me with primordial memories. i drifted through galaxies of light and spoke in the language of the stars; before i was housed in this cage of bones. the water sprites greet me as a lost sister. we used to dance together before age and humanness made me forget. a tiny water child speaking with the giants of the sea, fearless and knowing. i let the water flow over me; i am ancient unmovable earth and river song flowing to the music of rattling bones and whale calls. i close my eyes and surrender. remember, little one.—