Category Archives: Ferryman

whatever it is

I do not see the river. Or hear it. Or smell it. It is dark where I am, the ground hard and scrabbly under foot, the sky blanked by cloud. I do not even know which direction to walk in. … Continue reading

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enough

I am beached on my own shore, unmoving. There is weed in my hair and a certain sogginess about my fingertips. Pebbled. I lie still in the comfort of the dark. The shush of the river soothes me; sweet, wordless … Continue reading

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what flowers will flower

The Ferryman takes my hand, makes a hammock of his body, holds and enfolds me. All around, the turbulence continues. Within his embrace my light shines. I cannot know what it might mean to others. Only that it is. It … Continue reading

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encircled

I hold out my hand. The Ferryman is right there, reaching for me, the tips of our fingers graze. The pulse of connection is deep and settling. We are united, shoulder to shoulder. The circle, all around me, the circle … Continue reading

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every breath a crossing

We are in the heart of the wood. It is dark and damp and still. I sit by the pool of the white lotus. The trunks of ancient trees tower over me. The ground is thick with ferns. My companions … Continue reading

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love is yes

I kneel at the river’s edge, dip my hand into the cold flowing, cup the water and carry it to my face. The water is full of light and clarity. I think that this is all, this kneeling and receiving … Continue reading

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night mother

The Ferryman leans over me, shakes me gently. “Wake up,” he says,  “you’ve been dreaming.” I am confused. It’s dark and chill. Where am I? The ground is damp underneath me. There is a sweet, bent grass scent to it. … Continue reading

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