There’s a price you must pay.
I said, yes, of course. I’ll give you my blood.
I don’t want your blood, she laughed.
I looked at her, wondering what more I could give. I’ll give you my soul, I offered.
Oh, my dear child, she smiled softly, your soul is already mine, and each tear you’ll pay with you’ll see: it’s not the cuts that sting, it’s the salty water that drops on them.
So I give her my tears, hoping that Goddess or Words will, once in eternity, smile to me.
Alenka H., 2022