She succumbed
and fell beneath the parchment and pen.
Her eyes emptied.
Her mouth forgot to crack open.
The woman I was is used to this.
Tree roots need to eat.
Tag: shadow work
My heart is lifted from its hanging room.
Offered up to Anubis,
hemorrhaging love and dead hopes.
Even the feather feels heavy.
He sees me. He knows me.
Sekhmet’s gaze finds me.
Anger consumes me.
Her hair, electric, snapping,
mine static, rising.
My head bows in submission,
fear my rage would be judged,
felt as weakness within me.
She lifts my chin,
kisses my forehead,
a rush rips me open into laughter.
Madness erupts through me.
My womb aches, alive,
pain stopping my hand
before it harms,
before it degrades me.
Her breath moves over me,
a roar in my throat
tearing it wide.
Gold dust
fills
hair,
eyes,
mouth.
I am contained.
I inhabit this body.
I burn.
My eyes gleam.
My throat calls.
My hair lifts, charged.
A lioness lives in my belly.