Seeds before Imbolc

I took my dagger and the long flat stone into my room. I unwrapped the cloth tied across the flat stone and took my dagger back into my hands, flinting away to find inside a tiny seed.

My father and mother would pause and stand at the doorway watching me with concern.

I let them watch and wonder .
As I hit and flint, scrape for many days. It could have been one hundred years.

My hands were so chapped and veins lively with the pulse of my heart’s work.

My mother Anna opened the window and fresh air reminded me that I’m hungry and tired. She leads me to my bed and washes my hands while I roll into sleep. Shhh, grace slowly assures me deeper still.

How does your divinity feel? I’m scraping into mine and after much so much I have this seed.


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