Legba (Voodoo)
The Whispering Tongue of the Vodun Gates
The path bends where I whisper
I’m the twist in the road where three paths rot into dust, the taste of burnt hair on the wind. You want paradise? I got seven keys nailed to my ribs, each one rustier than the last. Follow me? You’ll dance with ghosts in the sugarcane and lose your shadow to a fox. Still hungry? Good. Hunger’s the best translator.
What I'm Into: bone charms cracked at midnight, the first lie of dawn, ants writing futures in the dirt, mango pulp sticky underfoot, the dog that never barks at crossroads
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