The harvest comes, lessons learned driven home
hammer striking nails, building shelters against the cold and famine
winter storms swirling in my heart
freezing iron chains on the floor,
manacles peeling aways my skin,
wrists rubbed raw in personal struggles
shed my skin, outgrown, faded, and cracked
new flesh raw and fresh, so easily hurt
Sliced open, the sacrifice of the season,
1st, 2nd, 3rd harvest and face the Crone
escorting the Horned One to His place
as Shadow King, ruler of the Underworld
we must travel through, realizing the truth of it
the tomb is the womb, and I am ready to be reborn
cuffs falling from my skin, taking with it,
my hard earned pain kept too close for too long.
