Cedar and Feather

I curl up in our cedar nest, feathered and dreaming—washed in obsidian night, I fly to You, always.

The Devotional Path

My whole heart feels alive in devotion, where love of the Divine keeps me present, connected, and whole.

I carry my father still. His absence weighs— a ghost in my chest, sorrow and relief entwined, a delicate dance.

Vibrant blue became our value true. Cornflowers, bachelor’s buttons, trumpet blooms held between our palms, pressed for all their softness.

Above me, two ravens cut the sky, black silk against the rising sun. Among the stones, I lingered, finding peace in quiet company.

I’ve worn the storm over my skin— vibrant, red. Lightning from my tongue forming electric, magnetic thoughts.

Leaves fall and spice the earth— I greet the dead with flowers, coins, and a joyful heart.

Santa Muerte etches into my heart, Her hand over my chest— my grandmother takes mine, leading me back to balance and rest.

A bonfire of hope and love, the heart knew the way— she be wild, she be free.

Clarity struck like lightning, ozone sizzled with potential. I shifted to receive—and learned I am possible in every way.