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love from the spirit, of strength and awe.


Helen, o Helen,
Let down your unbound hair
For I’m bound for the round
Of your hips

Used to be I'd shrug the price
Of the hardened sacrifice
To be told
That your face
Launched those ships—

Now I’m down, o I’m down
Here on mortal, quaking ground
And I’m lost in the dark
Of the truth;

Well I wish I’d brought a knife
So I’d slice out every eye
Of the stares
That undressed you
As you moved.

Tear these towers down,
Dark as the blood dried brown;
Bury your histories,
And I’ll bear you home from Cypridi.

Tell ‘em, o tell ‘em,
Those kings that claim you theirs,
That I’m here and don’t fear
What they wield;

I’ve a thousand years of strife
Stacked on ev’ry year of mine
From the mothers
Come before me
With their ire...

Hear, o hear
Those voices in the dark,
From the souls twisted up
And rent thru;

While my sisters weather hell
In the stories keepers tell
I’ll crouch here,
With what trouble
I can brew...


from Mother, I Cannot Weave — EP, released November 22, 2019
Isabella Ness, guitar / vox / ambience


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middlescence Austin, Texas

Eve the guitar, Isabella the human. Life happens, and so we sing about it to make it hum a little louder.

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