The Sky in Her Bones

She stands beneath the veil of dusk, arms outstretched, eyes lifted.
Constellations bloom beneath her skin like ancestral tattoos.
Each freckle a star, each breath a chant.
The moon hums in her throat; the earth listens at her feet.
She does not borrow power—she remembers it.
A witch born of cosmos and kin, walking the in-between.