The Shadow Work Girl
She Went Into Her Darkness With a Flashlight
I carry a flashlight, not a sword.
I was never afraid of the dark. I went looking for it, with a flashlight and bare feet. I found more than I expected—old fears curled up like cats, pain that refused to leave quietly, the child I once was, whispering. I didn't chase them out. I sat beside them. Now I bring others there, not to fix, but to witness.
What I'm Into: smudged charcoal sketches, dust motes in slanting light, the sigh of wind before rain, journals that speak in scribbles, fragile silences
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