Alone

Ink on printing porcelain paper; splashes of orange, black, and pale skin. A photograph on printing paper; 2 inches long, an inch and a half wide. Fingers nimbly curl the smooth paper into a cylinder and tape one edge shut, into a tube. A pinch of Eucalyptus, a pinch of Catnip to fill the tube before it’s sealed. I sit on the old, dead grass carcasses and face metal forms of transportation, parked and still like sleeping beasts. A click and a flickering flame disturbs the darkness, casting shadows which usually send some inside in fright. Tears fall down my face, and I’m careful to not put out the small flame with them as my shoulders wrack with silent sobs. I light the crinkling paper filled with herbs and the elements surround me; Earth, Air, Fire, Water, and Spirit, all come to me in comfort, hold me in their warm embrace.

For a single fleeting moment, they replace the friend and love I lost. The sweet smell of Catnip and smoke floats into me and fills me. The cold dewy grass cools my body, my racing heart. A single bird sings, reminding me of myself while a car passes every once in a while.

I’m warm with the sweet summer air and I gain the strength to stop crying. I whisper my supplications, my hopes and my needs. The Elements listen and help heal my broken heart, letting Magick fill and heal the wounds, leaving a scar to remind me of my strength and bravery. I say my thanks and goodbyes. As the fire smolders, the paper and the herbs turn to nothing on the harsh concrete. As I walk back inside the well-lit house, a Yin against the Yang of the dark night, I’m not alone.