another aspect

she wasn’t supposed to be there

so much

we’d had conversations and discussions

and plans

but she was also always supposed to be there

in the underworld / my living room / my heart


the older sister

the one who had a place of her own

to run

to birth the souls of the dead

again and again and again


that night

she was insistent

that this time 

(there had been other times)

she was not going to hold back

she was going to say the things

she always wanted to say to Inanna

she would point at the place

where the corpse hung

(behind the bookshelf)

and she would remind everyone that

death doesn’t stop

it never stops



she wanted a throne

The Queen

and she ran her hands along the

secondhand armchair

and felt it would do

though it wasn’t quite as comfortable

or polished

but she could sit on the makeshift throne

in a body that was more than willing

to birth the dead


my uterus shook and strained

and the pain flashed through my abdomen

with each breath

she was birthing the dead

oh her insides

(oh my insides)

oh her outsides

(oh my outsides)

oh her belly

(oh my belly)

and she writhed on the ground

and she loved/hated when someone tried to bow to her

and she was not excited to leave

when it was time to go


i can still feel her in my bones

the frustration at being the often-forgotten-sister

the cackle as she talked about Inanna

(the one who was not as perfect as she seemed / power hungry / jealous)

and i sense her in the way

my eyes halfway close and go back to that night

where the dimmed room became

an underworld

a known unknown

where compassion for death

emerged alongside

a chorus of nameless ones

About the Author

I'm a Witch, a priestess, international teacher, often-vegan, invocateur, ritualist, drummer, writer, moon devotee, Sagittarius, and Reclaiming initiate. I am committed to facilitating community growth and connection through ritual creation, storytelling, moon magick, drumming, and embracing beauty in all of its forms. And I am delightfully devoted to Aphrodite, Hecate, Iris, and the Norns. You’ll often find me writing poetry, singing to the moon, crafting songs, and looking for a snack. Here, I'll be writing about the moon, ritual, rewriting personal and collective stories, and poetry. And letting inspiration take the lead.

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  1. Wow! This showed up as an answer to a question I hadn’t yet fully formed while I was researching something else. Now I know there is a bridge that used to be invisible to me. Thank you for your wonderful, powerful words!

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