Poetry: Baba Yaga (For Inga)
This poem is dedicated to my best friend and platonic soulmate, in the hopes the it will always remind her of her own power. Baba Yaga (For Inga) Your heritage is something of old magic, waiting in the wild, bone deep with iron teeth, somewhere between fact and folklore. Let the princes and wizards play their games at your expense. You can smell a man’s spirit. You are the clouds, moon, death, life. Sweep away the traces of your dalliance with the world of mortals. Use the same silver birch broom to travel the wind. Your soul friends are at your command, fierce general of bright dawn, red sun, dark midnight. Never mind that there is earth mixed with your poppy seeds. There is more to life than fake smiles and carefully chosen words, putting on illusions for the comfort of others while they mistake your generosity for a weakness Who is it that foolish men turn to for help wh
