She of the Gleaming Edge

Glory to Morrigan
Eidolon sovereign
of blooded battlefields
Rich soil, soaked through. 
Everything grows where death walked. 
Queen of the Cycle
Rebirthing yourself anew
Year after year
day after day
my devotion grows
out of blood-soaked clay
Shall I offer whiskey,
that you may sleep and leave the world in peace?
No
I think I shall offer coffee
That you may have the energy
to do what needs to be done
Shining edge, gleaming steel
cuts away what doesn’t belong
It’s finished now
It’s done.
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Author: Morag

Morag Spinner is a writer, a witch, and an activist (sometimes all three) living in British Colmbia, Canada. Zie's fat and genderqueer, and zie crafts all manner of things, from spell jars to duct tape bags to shawls to blankets to random bits of kitsch. Zie's obsessed with chocolate and listens to far too much Evanescence.

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