THE MATH: (Lilith + Taurus) SQUARE (Pluto + Capricorn) = The Bones
Lilith checks in, on the Water
Sprites in hell…
"So, Pink, how you feeling?"
"Snuffly, but healing," Pink says.
"HBU Green?" Lilith asks.
"I feel good still.
I'm just, like, remaining
calm, and bunting other people's
fear aWay, and resting,"
"I get that. It was fear
parkour, in the Desert.
Everyone was all like,
'Aren't you scared
of getting raped, or kidnapped?'
It's like, HELLO,
I was born a woman,
the fear is in
our DNA, I do not need
the Desert, for that."
"What did you need
the Desert for?" Pink asks.
"For healing my nervous system,
and being alone, and crying a lot,
and learn about
how I am most naturally
mySelves, and doing Nothing,
and feeding my body.
"Here," Lilith says, and tosses
the Water Sprites her diary,
"I sucked the venom out,
and poured it
into this, last Winter."
…The Water Sprites Read
excerpts, from Lilith’s Desert Diary…
North Node in GEMINI sesquisquare
the native Saturn AQUARIUS
We like to pretend today is
Christ’s birthday. And I think
I am probably celebrating
as Well as any other native,
cut from the Book he never wrote.
My blood celebrates his eternity,
inside the Garden of which I have been
cast out. I dust myself off
in the Desert, confronting what is left
of my daemons, like him.
I sleep each night on bolts of fabric
I could not bear to part with,
surrounded by what remains
of the medicine I set in motion
in that Eden. These rugs
are prayerful portals, and I Love them
as such. I am learning the language
of the Desert, and what it means
to be with it. I am learning how
a cloudy evening will be warmer
than a clear one, and the Way
the Moon silvers itself on the sand
roads, as bright as snow.
The rocks here speak differently
than the stone walls of my Garden.
They hum, and if you can
find a place to sit beneath them,
they will tell you secrets.
In the Desert, each tree is
an Eden of its own; pulsing
with the Magick of resilience,
and a Well-placed seed.
North Node in GEMINI quincunx
the native Pluto in SCORPIO
IT’S HONESTLY SO ANNOYING
when people tell me to,
“be careful,” like a parting Death
wish. What the fuck do you
people think I’m doing out Here?
Whether you want me to be scared of Other
people, or of COVID, or the Creatures,
or of running out of 'enoughness,' everyone
somehow thinks they are being wise,
and original. Always the same; eyebrows
raised, or that ominous lilt of the voice,
“Be careful.” I am sleeping in the Desert,
for weeks at a time, not leaving,
hardly speaking to, or seeing, anyone,
besides over zoom. It is likely I am
less exposed than you, to danger and disease,
as you frolic amongst yourSelves.
It is not a blessing. Your fear
is a black cloud you try to shelter
me under, with a leaky umbrella. No,
thank you. I am all set
on your projections, and your slapstick,
passing opinions, on what it means
to be me, as you take a snapshot
of my life, and create freeze
frames of your own nightmare
for me. This is not my first time
living on the road. This is a rodeo
I know. I am wiser than you think
I seem, but I can’t help but smile at
you, as you speak. It makes you see
the Child in me, but I do not welcome
your worry. Would it be OK, if you just
let me be healing?
Full Moon in CANCER conjunct
the native South Node
It’s just me and the Moon, and the
cacti, out here in the Ironwood
National Forest, no human else.
Road Rage and I pulled in as the Sun
set behind us, and the Moon rose in front.
The cacti, worshipping the whole show
like a Sea of divine middle fingers.
I knew I was close to my Moon line,
when I got the inkling that this was
where I needed to be, but looking it up
now, I see I’m exactly on it. I giggle,
but I am no longer surprised by my own
lunacy. How very Cancerian indeed,
to be sucked into the center stream
of where the Moon rules me. The Land does
not exactly feel “good” here. It is
a little shadowed, and creepy, as past
life echoes can be. I came here to merge
with the part of me I gave him; the teen,
so long split from me I wasn’t sure I was
a woman, anymore. She is no longer the only
gender living in me, but I can feel her
returning lately. The scales, tipping
my fluidity. She runs, literally,
arms open wide, through sandy
corridors; a dusty phantom, kicking up
sparkles. I have never liked running before,
but these past two days, my legs take off
with me, but not by my command. “Come
back,” she speaks, “come back to me.”
It makes me cry with relief, to feel her,
in me. This past year, I was not
sure that she and I would ever again
be. “Come back,” she laughs,
“wrap our bones