The Wild Iris -- by Louise Gluck . At the end of my suffering there was a door. . Hear me out: that which you call death I remember. . Overhead, noises, branches of the pine shifting. Then nothing. The weak sun flickered over the dry surface. . It is terrible to survive as consciousness buried in the dark earth. . Then it was over: that which you fear, being a soul and unable to speak, ending abruptly, the stiff earth bending a little. And what I took to be birds darting in low shrubs. . You who do not remember passage from the other world I tell you I could speak again: whatever returns from oblivion returns to find a voice: . from the center of my life came a great fountain, deep blue shadows on azure seawater. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . #lifeisalovespell #wildiris #louisegluck #initiation #irisanya #irisanyamoon #lostandfound #witch #witchcraft #ritual #almostnewmoon #aphrodite #magick #poetry #wordmagick #moonfeels #writersofinstagram #authorsofinstagram #poetsofinstagram https://www.instagram.com/p/BrEcVfanjAa/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=hi60t3mzdqno