The Morning After The New Moon The Bog Banshee woke before the world this morning. Before the engines. Before the noise. Before people remembered who they were supposed to be. And the sky… the sky looked like a bruise healing itself. Lavender smoke. Ash rose light. The last dark clinging to

The Bog Banshee’s Quiet Ink Day Three—The Shape of What’s Waking You don’t need clarity yet. You need sensation. Close your eyes for a moment and feel into what is beginning. -If this new stirring had a shape, what would it look like? -If it had a texture, a weight, a temperature, what would

The Bog Banshee’s Quiet Ink Day Two—The Impatience Beneath Your Skin Not all impatience is recklessness. Some of it is instinct tapping its foot. Sit with the tension of almost. -Where in your life do you feel restless, itchy, or 'ready but not ready'? -What are you trying to rush…

Day One—The Thing That Won’t Stay Buried There is something in you that keeps rising, no matter how many times you press it down. Write into that. -What feeling, desire, or truth keeps resurfacing lately? -When did you first try to bury it, and why? -What does it want now, in this almost