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I hit the wall, Jack
I can't mow no mo no mo no mo
I hit the wall, Jack

I'll be back

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Morrigon
12:53 Jul 26 2026

Rest easy, sister in lawn, a new day will dawn.

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Boopboop boopity boop. Getting things done! It's 90+ degrees, so I'm doing a little, cooling off, then going back. Eating that elephant one bite at a time! I had no idea I could do all of this and I'm so freaking proud of myself.

And $500 later, my furry boy has his shots and annual checkup behind him. But, man... It was hard to scan that card. He was looking up at me with a "why you hesitating? I'm a good boy" look. Damnit, he's right. Who needs money anyway?

Good you and good me. Let's go home.

I'll never be like you. Do you know why? I believe what I say. How disappointing to learn about your lies. Scorched earth. "Who you are speaks so loudly that I cannot hear what you say to the contrary." How's all that going for you?

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Morrigon
15:05 Jul 25 2026

Those rotten seeds of lies didn't get a chance to rot in my soil, I think the hand knew better than to throw them my way. Regardless, why? Why would someone's journey ever need to be on the foundation of lies? Sometimes asking the right question is all it takes to unlock the truth. *insert big shrug here*

And over here: *insert big hug*

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Joli
20:25 Jul 25 2026

I'm glad it isn't my story. I wish it weren't theirs. I want more for them than they sometimes want for themself.

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From 2008, sisters. Posted here in the before of so much. Tell me you remember us still.



A Song of Eve

21:31 May 19 2008
Times Read: 2,203


The sun is setting on me and my garden. The birds are fewer, singing in the far away. It is time for the cicadas to raise their songs and the lonely chirrup of Louisiana frogs accompany. With Vespers' images in my head, her words swimming through my veins and oxygenating my soul, I feel whole and vulnerable. I feel what it is to be female and seduced by all that is World and Heart.



I feel Morrigon out there, my mother, VW, Irony, Silverbow, Requiem, Moony, Images, [Next name respectfully redacted] and Meeper. I feel my sister's integrity as she will die with the secrets I have wept into her. I feel my daughters as they grow and step away from the mother arms that fight to hold them still. I feel my grandmothers reaching back for me, soft old fingers stroking my hair again.



Grateful. Grateful. I am so grateful for what it is to be woman. We are the color within petals and

the shape of love within a stern reply. We are the smell of warm still-soft cookies on a cold night.



I love your souls, beautiful beautiful women who are not afraid to love each other. I sometimes need your arms beneath me to hold me up. I believe in your strength and wrap it round me, a boa to dance with when I make silly faces in the mirror and a favorite shawl, reassuring through the years we will love one another.

COMMENTS

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Joli
22:36 Jul 22 2026

If there's any confusion about the redaction, it's a respectful removal of a name that no longer identifies as female, but who is still cherished.

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Cartomancer
22:55 Jul 22 2026

❤️

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Morrigon
13:25 Jul 23 2026

I treasure your friendship and your words. I often think of you, as if reaching out across the country to be near you.

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Joli
13:53 Jul 23 2026

I believe that I feel it when you do. You're an exceptional young woman.

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There were nights when I sat upon the floor and wept.

And there will be nights when I sit beneath unfamiliar stars and smile.

Both belong to me.

There were seasons chosen for me.

And there are beautiful roads I will choose for myself.

Both belong to me.

There were endings I would never have written.

And there are beginnings I could never have imagined.

Both belong to me.

I will collect little wonders where I find them.

I will leave when peace leaves with me.

I will remain curious.

I will remain kind.

And when I am afraid, I will borrow courage from tomorrow until I discover that some small measure of it was growing quietly within me all along.

There is symmetry.

She tastes the rime of a missing minute,
Record skipping across the chill
Of an unfinished thought
And wades, trousers rolled,
Into the downstream tide pool of liminal grief.
This dissonant backlit angel I cannot save.
I long to hear the voice of breath,
To commune, converse,
To skip rocks across the source
Of all that is precious to me.
How, too, can this supplication be
Stilled and swallowed
By a yawning wellspring?
Oh, not this one. Not this one.
How heavy is the hollow pause
Of an unmoved god.
© 2026 Joli Dy