Hysterical letters to my sanity

Mother please hear me

Condolences to you and yours, for I didn't intend it to end this way. I speak to the old gods as if they are some kind of parent. I need an older wiser being to tell me what to do and how to feel. I need the instructions to be carved into my bones. I was visited by a goddess one night, though the only indication of her divinity was the pale gold glow that wrapped around her. She told me stories of brave women and lovers that met tragedy too early. This has always been their story, of course you want it to be better, who wouldn't. But there are times when love is soft and welcoming. It warmly glows like the goddess herself, the centre of the universe perhaps living tucked beneath your ribs, gathered in the grass, sweetly carried by the wind. So light the candle, speak the words, make this mundane moment religious if you have to. Immaculate daughter, you will not be the sacrificial lamb.