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@wrdgardens.bsky.social

words i love. dm/reply for sources or takedowns! run by @rosecrest header from “the transformation of silence into language and action” by audre lorde

You really don’t know what happened, do you? It doesn’t matter. By all means, stay in this cozy coffin of yours and continue to play prince. But I have to go now. She’s not gone at all, she merely vanished from your world. Farewell.

When I was young I saw my father on Tuesday afternoons A tray of fruit and a cup of juice, and little else between us In search of more one week I thought I'd bring some questions to him Because I knew so little but I knew he answered questions

Look at him turning to take the last few steps toward the one who awaits him. His face tilted upward toward home. Look at him, look at him. How could I not love him?

For that matter, what two people on earth could possibly make it together? The heartbreak of holding on seemed preferable to the heartbreak of ever having to try again, of ever again attempting to connect with another human being.

The small was reflected in the large, the meek did have power to move the great, a kind word to a stranger could alter the fate of nations: for the great was made out of the small, and the world was made out of people.

There will be times when the struggle seems impossible. I know this already. Alone, unsure, dwarfed by the scale of the enemy. Remember this. Freedom is a pure idea. It occurs spontaneously and without instruction.

Mother, she bays, am I an animal? Khaje wants to answer: Run, daughter, run to me! Khaje wants to cry out, Anna, I love you, I love you, come home. But she can’t say anything. After all, she has wolf jaws.

I mean a proper good-bye to a woman, before we parted. A good-bye that was … decent, pleasant, kind. I’ve had three lovers now. One was Tain Hu, one was an asshole, and one was you. I’m glad I get to say good-bye to you.

“But,” Tahr said, kissing her next pawn in thought, “they always come back to each other. That’s better than being inseparable, I think. To be separable, but bound.”

In the end, the only way to talk to the past was to be a dead girl. I heard a deep need in its voice, the great primal horror, the beginning of attachment: after all these years, after the death of all, this broken machine just wanted its mother.

“There’s a faraway light. Then a roar like long, slow thunder. The roar doesn’t stop; it gets louder, and then it’s so loud you can’t hear anything. The faraway light grows, and it’s yellowish at first, and in the beginning, it looks like something that’s meant to help you, like