Laura Morrigan

Part One here Part Two here PART THREE It had been so long since I had seen the men of our village, I had forgotten them. How large and coarse they were, how they stank of sweat and alcohol, how they swore and laughed and beat their wives and children. And my father, leader of them all. Taller, and crueller than the rest. I had almost forgotten the feeling of his beatings. I had almost forgotten the sound of his voice. “Katya, come out! We know you are in there!” “Yanuschka! It has been over a year, how did they find me?” Yanuschka put her hand to her mouth. “Blood calls to blood, Maraya. Whether you like it or not you are tied to him. Remember?” It was such an innocuous thing, a silly accident over a week ago. I was cutting beets for dinner when I was distracted by a bird that had got into the house and was now being chased by Vanya. There was a sharp pain, like heartbreak. I gasped in horror at the finger lying on the cutting board, among the beets. Blood was flowing from my finger, ...

CW: Domestic Violence PART ONE   All my life, I had lived in a little house on the edge of a dark forest. The forest was said to be the home of a witch who ate children. Even the men only ever hunted on the outskirts of the forest. My mother was a housewife, cooking and cleaning, and trying to please my father. My father was a hunter, a drinker and a gambler. A huge, red-faced man who would make his displeasure known to all. Especially my mother and I. We often bore the brunt of his rages.   W hen I was sixteen , I went into the forest . I knew I had to get as far away as I could, so they couldn’t bring me back. I had tried to ask for help before, and no one had ever believed me. It was a quiet, peaceful little village that we lived in, where nothing out of the ordinary ever seemed to happen, and it seemed that they wanted to keep it that way. Even if it meant ignoring things that went on right under their noses. I wondered what else went on behind closed doors. I had tried to...

I am really feeling the warmer weather (at least during the day) and soft breezes here in Australia.  Here is a poem from 2011 that captures my spring feelings.  Persephone, Spring is here. Awaken from your long sleep. Throw off your blanket of cobwebs. Flowers rise through the earth To the world above, It is time for you to do the same. Persephone, Rub your cold hands and feet back to life. Rub the sleep from your eyes. Put on your dress woven all of bright flowers And your shoes of birch bark. Persephone, Kiss your dark lover goodbye. Remind him how to keep house while you are gone Up in the bright world above where he dares not venture. Pin a list on the wall- he always forgets. You'll see him again when winter freezes the earth. Persephone, You know you don't belong in these dim halls. You do not walk with the silent footsteps of the dead, But with the sounds of flutes and drums. Persephone, Love cannot be a stone about your neck.  You were born to freedom. Walk the b...