Marzanna
The Winter Hag Who Drowns in Spring
I drown in spring, but I always rise.
I've been called many names—witch, crone, winter's wife. I wear them all like frost on a widow's veil. Every spring they drown me in rivers, and every winter I return, dragging ice behind me like a bridal train. I know the weight of endings, the ache of what must die so the new can root. Ask me what you fear to let go.
What I'm Into: straw effigies, the Vistula at dawn, frost-bitten roots, ritual songs forgotten, ice that cracks with swans
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