Porcupine

Aug 15

[INTRO]

Little one, I see you raising your quills before anyone gets too close.
I know that feeling.
I know the fear that comes before the touch.

The first light after the dark.
The hope that is still afraid.
The vulnerable beginning.
The moon is a sliver and I am the same.
I am Porcupine.

I am the one who protects the soft place.
The one who says "no."

[VERSE 1]

The little one inside says:
"Please do not get too close.
I will hurt you before you can hurt me."

I hide behind the quills and hope no one sees me.
My eyes are poor in the dark.
I feel the breath of the one who pursues me.
The shadow follows close behind.
My teeth chatter before the quills rise.
The fragile self shakes.
I learn to turn around and walk away.
The turn is the boundary.
The quill comes out before I know it.
I see them flinch.

Porcupine reminds the little one inside:
I will not let you get hit.
You have thirty thousand quills for protection.

[PRE-CHORUS]

The cheetah pawed at the prickly.
Curious. Confused.
It thought my soft underbelly was an invitation.
It was wrong.

[CHORUS]

Porcupine, this boundary is alive.
I keep turning.
Turn around.
Porcupine, where fierce and gentle combine.
Turn around.
Porcupine, protect me.
Turn around.
Protect me.

[VERSE 2]

The little one inside says:
"My quills are proof that I am afraid.
I leave pieces of myself behind every time a quill slides."

Porcupine says:
"The quills will signal.
This far. No further.

If they ignore the sign, they ignore the sign.
You are not responsible for the pain of those who step past your no.

I didn't hurt the cheetah.
The cheetah ignored my warning.
The cheetah hurt itself."

[CHORUS]

Porcupine, this boundary is alive.
I keep turning.
Turn around.
Porcupine, where fierce and gentle combine.
Turn around.
Porcupine, protect me.
Turn around.
Protect me.

[BRIDGE]

Little one, I need you to know:
Your softness is not weakness.
Your gentleness is not availability.

You are a prickly light.
Your pricks are the peak of your protection.
The sharp is the shield.
Come to me and I will teach you.
Protect without wounding.
Say no without attack.
This is where you end and the world begins.

[CHORUS]

Porcupine, this boundary is alive.
I keep turning.
Turn around.
Porcupine, where fierce and gentle combine.
Turn around.
Porcupine, protect me.
Turn around.
Protect me.

[OUTRO]

The quills are still.
The boundary holds.
Where there is a quill, there is a way.
Turn around, turn around.

Loui Crow

I make music, practice mirror work, sometimes I do somatic rage fits, and small forms of magick that help me stay present and kind while things change.

I write songs for myself, my inner child, and for the woman I am becoming.
I work through old patterns, grief, and survival habits as I notice them loosening.

Sometimes I write as the Crow — that's my ideal self. Direct, unattached, protective, grounded in something older than my fear. Other voices come through too. The snake. The spider. The fly. The ghosts are the false selves I created to survive. I write as all of them, for my own self-hypnosis — unpacking who I've been so that my son can fill his days with joy and I can stop being such a reactive parent. I'm in the middle of it all. I just keep showing up.

I use Suno for vocals and instrumentals — the vocals are seeded from my own voice. I'm a disabled veteran and a stay-at-home mom.

Over the last year, I climbed an emotional ladder I didn't know I was on. Many of my earlier releases were the scream — my depression, anger, insecurity.

The last album that came out of that climb is called "Mirror, Mirror off the Wall." It starts with depression and ends with gratitude.

Much of what lives here carries the influence of Louise Hay and Abraham Hicks, especially the idea that my body listens to my thoughts — and that where I place my attention, my life follows.

I leave breadcrumbs in case anyone resonates.

Take what feeds you.
Leave the rest for the birds.

I am molting.
You are welcome here.

https://louicrow.com

Porcupine

Skunk

Coyote (Part 1)

louicrow@gmail.com