bleed again

She is old,so old, swathed in black, nestled amongst giant roots, by the stream. The water sprites do not come too close. The wood nymphs watch in silence. Their eyes are speckled sunlight, streaming through thick foliage. Her voice is the smooth caress of water over stone.
“The scar is not living flesh, the scar is dead, cut it open, bleed again, remember, remember, bleed again. “

(C) Magenta Nero 2014