Laura B Writing in the Shadows (@writeintheshadows): "nom nom nom with @The Secret Ingredient Sent by something ancient that still knows our name, older than stone, older than the first fire stolen, it moves like a god without temples, like a tide that remembers when the moon was closer, when blood and ocean answered to the sa…"

Sent by something ancient that still knows our name,

older than stone, older than the first fire stolen,

it moves like a god without temples,

like a tide that remembers when the moon was closer,

when blood and ocean answered to the same pull.

It presses its thumb into the soft place behind the sternum,

marks us with a heat that is not entirely human,

calls us by the syllables we carried before mouths were shaped,

before we learned to kneel to smaller things.

It smells of iron and cedar smoke,

of altars split by lightning and beasts crowned in stars,

and it does not ask permission

it takes the spine in its fist

and straightens it toward whatever horizon burns,

as if destiny were not a story

but a door we once locked from the outside

and are finally strong enough to break open.

my last line is your first

Their voices sleep in our bones, soft as dust, stubborn as winter. Even our longings are inherited — old ghosts rehearsing the shape of our breath.

Wind moves where memory cannot. Feathers flicker against the stillness. Two doves stand quietly in the open — as if sent by something ancient that still knows our name. Thank You Wildwood Writer I nominate Be Budding Sara da Encarnação Laura B Writing in the Shadows

Feb 11

11:02 PM