I hang from a chain that winds around her neck like a breathless silver snake. It is a gift from the Grandmother. And I am a gift from the Goddess, the first Mother.
She glances at her reflection in the looking-glass and catches my image. She tucks me back beneath cloth. So I nestle against her skin. The twin-masks are my only company. A gift from the Sister. They hang from the breathless silver snake too, clanging against my face as she walks. One eternally sad and the other eternally joyful. They make mutterings. Endless mutterings.
She unclasps me and places me by a glass jar. From within, a single flame flickers. She snuffs it out. She huffs out a breath, relieved at the weight removed. She writes. She worries. She washes a dish. She worries. She hoovers. She worries. She reads. She worries. She eats. She worries. She sleeps. She worries.
The rays of the sun beam through the window. She puts on her trainers. I hear the click of locks. She steps outside. Click. Click. I grow cold. Click. Click. She rushes back. She picks me up. She winds the breathless silver snake around her neck. She steps back out into the world. Unafraid.
Written on 02.04.2021.
I recently attended a workshop called ‘Overcome Writer’s Block with Gifts from Mother Nature’ led by Maria Koropecky. It was inspiring listening to fellow writers share their struggles and some shared their thoughts and experiences on how we could each overcome these struggles. The piece above was born from an assignment set by Maria to write about an item of jewellery.
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