In her memory...

"In her memory I build boundaries that are made of Roses and Nettles, Wolves and Bears, Oak and Witches. 

I stand up straighter, stronger, when I remember her.

The memory of that young and fragile thing, so broken and so magical, reminds me to respect and honour the depths within my heart these days.

I listen to her and remember her knowing, before the breaking and the wounding misguided her.

So lost was she, that now, I make sure to let my heart guide me home,

to a sense of belonging within.

I oil my body in sweet plant oils, to honour her pain, her tenacity.

Paying attention to the scars, the tightness and the tender hopes held within flesh and muscle memory.

I rest in the forest and listen.

Letting her know, I understand now, 

that she really did hold a wildness so real, so alive, and it’s here still, beating within.

No one took it, or destroyed it,

and I’m coming back home, to that place,

so together we can rise.

For she is me, and I am her, and I’m learning to rest back in my original nature, my beauty, my braveness,

my wild."

Brigit Anna McNeill