Santa Muerte, Beautiful in Red
She hands me a sickle all my own,
small, handheld, meant for cutting cords.
I practice with Her, my eyes under wraps.
Soon, I’ll be doing this on my own—
blind, sure of hand,
a steady and swift swing.
Strings and wiry stoppings draining me
get the slice.
I love freeing myself.
I love Her wisdom and Her guidance.
© 2025 Raven | Jasmine on the Grave. All rights reserved.
Jasmine on the Grave 
Your poetry and the image actually reminds me of “guns and roses”
Oh… what a vibe they create and so does your poetry 🌹
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Thank you, that means a lot. I love when art and devotion carry that kind of intensity, beauty and edge all at once. 💀❤️
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Credit goes to you 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻
My lunar soul✨
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Thank you, always. 🌙❤️
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