ravens
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The village feared the crows; she listened to them, carrying feathers, wildness, and a name older than the one she was given.
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In a ruined chapel of ravens and ivy, one candle burns for the women history called wicked because they refused to disappear quietly.
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The women they called dangerous were often simply the ones who learned to survive without asking permission.
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At three in the morning, the world goes quiet enough for old houses, moonlight, and sleepless women to remember each other’s names.
Between Bruises & Blooms 