Hollow Branches - Ash of The Wound

Gathered in rot beneath moonless veil Ash in our lungs, and silence we inhale The salt of grief, the marrow of pain We summon the pulse through soil and flame Bind the wound in moss and clay Speak not the name, let the roots splay Blood drips slow on yarrow crown What dies within shall not drown Smoke the veil, burn the thorn Lay bare the soul tattered and worn Spill the bile, crush the stone Let the dead parts come undone Scream into the leaves, break the spell of ache Carve the rot out, for your own sake Wade through the mire, till your bones sing Healing is the knife, not the offering Crush the elderbark—drink the pitch Wash the sin in nettle stitch Circle thrice the hollow tree Let grief root down and set you free The wound is sacred—don’t let it close Till it speaks in worms, in fungal prose Let it fester, let it bloom ’Til you are the wild that left the tomb Smoke the veil, burn the thorn Lay bare the soul tattered and worn Spill the bile, crush the stone Let the dead parts come undone Scream into the leaves, break the spell of ache Carve the rot out, for your own sake Wade through the mire, till your bones sing Healing is the knife, not the offering Don’t cleanse the soil, let it stain That’s where your ghosts became your name Barefoot, howl, beneath the moon’s eye “You are not broken. You are opened.”