Red Sky at Morning

Crimson is a calm Colour
It comes after Violence
the Eye of an angry Storm
 
 
I can feel my heart breaking.
 
And it tears not with the clang of a clacson or the roar of thunder, but with the tiny snaps one can hear when tearing weeds from the earth. What a shallow, wicked thing a heart is that sits so proudly in my chest, beating so selfishly. She demands so much from me that I wish, at times, that I could petrify her, place her on the mantelpiece and regale days when such a crude thing had influence over me.
 
I have been measured and found wanting.
 
I let that majestic beast die. And worse than that, I instigated their initial rage.
 
By trying to bind them, I caused their anger to boil. I deserved what I received and though I have the skill to heal it… perhaps I shouldn’t.
 
I am disgraced... What I would do to take the shape of a bear and burrow underground to hibernate away from all of this.
 
Why did I leave home, for this? For death? If not by my own hand then encouraged by it. If I had stayed perhaps the night terrors would have driven me mad, but at least I would not have been a part of all this slaughter.
 
Yet, there she is again. Knocking at my ribcage, egotistically reminding me that if I had never left then I never would have met my new, dear, beloved ones.
 
I must be rotten to the core, to see something so violent and then desire something so exclusively self-centred. A better druid would take their staff and leave, would go back to healing and make amends for their wrongdoings.
 
My Lady, gift me hope. Even if it costs years of my life, please bestow something to me to swallow my anger and fear. If I can bury a seed in the ground and it brings forth beauty, why not the same with my heart. My veins no longer transport blood now so much as tighten like vines around my mind.
 
And so I will let my sadness drown me silently. The pestilence of my actions is enough horror to spread. Thus I cannot let it be seen or understood by those I care for.
 
If I am to do something with this long life of mine, My Lady Mielikki, I pray that it is not expected of me soon… for I have just proven that I am not ready.