4 months with baba yaga - 3- the margins

“bless me. i’m going i don’t know where”.
(maiden asks her father as she leaves the house for ever).

welcome to her world - you’ve officially left the centre.

“her stories are great - but where are the ones where she’s not just the hinge - she’s the central character? “

no such thing. keep your eyes on the periphery, and your patience moist.
my hunter tends to be alert
but she covers her tracks
even in my thoughts,
i forget the dates,
scramble every week to comb out a story
from the dizzying tangle
that had such a different shape last time i looked

she eludes the beam of my awareness

she grows in every emerald pool of shadows,
filling them with women
who are actually flocks of birds,
symbols i don’t understand
but that dance in front of me
in the cityscape,
where oblivious walkers
send a thousand sparrows hiding into the evergreen bush
and they remain there,
hidden and singing

yaga captains our ship through moonless nights,
never leaving an illusion of control
linger for too long

she keeps showing
that where does not matter,
who does not matter,
follow an arrow
or wherever your eyes fall,

marry the first one to come along.

if you don’t
love’s crowbar smashes your kneecaps,
if you do
the tsar sends an army
to take your life and your bride

the way is always labyrinth
and love roots down mostly
outside
of my comfort zone

the smoke in her chimney curls around the brightest midday sun, and keeps whispering

it ain’t over
till it’s over

__________________

#yaga #babayaga #cronemedicine #storytelling #mysterious #illusionofcontrol #lessonsfromthemargins #storiesasmedicine

photo by amir kh on unsplash