This savage season of the waxing moon, she tears me apart right now. Her keening darkness, light-edged and yet oh-so-dark, casts shadows on my “wild gypsy energy that refuses to be tamed,”as Marion Woodman puts it, and those shadows are the shape of my bones.
eclipse. light and shadow.
My darkness wakes with me. She isn't underworld darkness but otherworld, a womb-shaped mystery. I didn't know it would happen like this, with my own awakening, and I’ve resisted going there until now.