The Language of Exile. {poetry}
Like sudden sparks set forth, words splatter upon blank pages, searching for form... or into your hand, like sapphires falling from Her grail.
Browsing Tag:
Ceridwen
Lament of a Jezebel in June: Dark Night of the Painted Woman.
She pulled a ring off Her finger and tossed it in my direction. "I am wicked in their eyes because I have an opinion. I am unclean because I will not bow to the will of men, and I am a sinner because their god is not my god."