You are a witch. You are a witch and may not even realize it.
You might be a Christian and be a witch. Your practice
might be so occulted that even you cannot see the truth.
I am a witch and I know it. I know it by my ancient family roots.
I know how to perform alchemy and mix chemicals
that can heal you or kill you, and the wisdom of good witchcraft.
Some chemicals and some plants are poisonous. Witches know.
Witches have books to consult to develop their craft.
Those who don’t practice witch craft are very dangerous.
They don’t know what they are doing and will swallow
just about anything, even chill pills full of white magic,
magical thinking, and mistakes.
Witch craft runs in my blood and I can do nothing to change it.
How can I deny my beautiful red hair and classic wart on my chin?
Don’t worry, I tried to hide the evidence. To look at my innocent
motherhood years, one would think I was a blonde Barbie doll,
or a dutiful Sunday School teacher. But, I asked God for guidance
and God said, “Flee! Run to the hills! Run for your life!”
So, I escaped to the ancient oak groves and discovered who I was.
I tried to deny it as well. I finally had to accept that magic is powerful.
I had to accept that witches are real and not just found in storybooks.
When Snow White moved in across the street, and a black cat came my way,
the broom in the corner began dancing and my wand began singing.
Magic is real; poetry is powerful; this is the season of the witch.
You may be a witch and not realize it yet. You may be an angel in disguise.
You may not realize how entirely powerful and beautiful you are.
You may be under the spell of a warlock husband who tells you lies.
You may be the victim of a witch hunt. Sometimes, people…
even your own family, fear what they don’t understand a
bout the other world of spirits, demons, fairies, zombies, goblins, dragons,
mermaids, and true fish tales told by real witches.
Sometimes, witches are birthed in the fall.
In an ancient fall for a time such as this. The war between
good and evil, life and death, health and disease.
This is the season of the rising of bread in the oven of life.
This is the season of the rising of all hallowed spirits.
This is the season of change and miracles, characters and magic.
I am a witch. It is in the cards, the stars, the trees, the books
and even the legal papers filed in the Lane County Courthouse.
It is in the material evidence. Witches get scapegoated for fears
they cannot control. So do Christians. So do mothers. So do prophets.
So do martyrs, like teachers, poets, and children.
So do creative writers who write the truth
about energy begetting energy, love begetting fear,
and how to rise above knowing both good and evil.