Enter the wild with care, my love*

This writing was written from a rock in the midst of the Dartmoor – these words are dedicated to this land, whose moors have captured my heart, whose moors made me hungry for more, for deeper, for something true.

***
10 April 2025

The moors are endless and unknown to me.
They are thirsty and I am no water to them.
All I can offer today are my tired bones, spine against their curvature, hips held by this rock like a solid mother, ancient and immutable.

I am a melting pot of sorry and joy, of grief and yearning. They know this, and they say nothing.

They have seen the dreamers come here over and over; the screech of owl and raven song; they know the mothers that come here to mourn, they know all the names and all that is unnameable.

I let them know mine. Scatter it between the dry grasses of their backs, whisper it in their hair of lichen and moss.
My name is prayer and promise: be my home and I will be yours
I’ll sing morning into you
and what small seed is tended in this body
what ripples and migrations I may stir
let them be my gift to you in return.




_{*Title inspired by the first line of The Lost Words Blessings from Spell Songs.}