I had a dream where obsidian figured extensively—
even in holy places.
The dream said: your boundaries can be holy,
keeping yourself can be sacred,
your silence can be medicine,
and you don’t have to translate yourself
into something digestible.

Obsidian is the kind of guardian
that enforces healing
and swallows the noise
of energetic attachments.

Remember that survival
can be a black gleam.

I woke up with the taste
of illuminating darkness in my mouth
and the sense that somewhere
inside me
something had been sealed
safe.

The dream said
here.
carry this.

a shard of truth.
a mirror without mercy.
a protection shaped like night.
And I did.