Awake Daughter

The white witch is dead and with her demise comes a sigh of relief from my inmost parts.  Permission to smile, laugh, gaze and dream begins to flood my soul again.  Awake daughter, do not hang your head with the dark, cold, long winter nights.  Look to the sun, feel it, drink it in.  Water and air for the soul.  Wash away the debris, the discarded remains of a hard year.  Fling wide the windows, open your eyes and see the fresh, new life springing forth.  Beauty for ashes.  From death to resurrection.  The cycle of life may continue ever more, but pause this time, this very moment and set it aside in your heart to draw from for the next winter of your soul.