Girls who run with the wolves
aren’t here for boys to love

the moon sings every night,
pulls the ocean’s tides to shore
your heart belongs to every star
screams dance upon your lips

a princess should be build of
stars and suns and forever’s
your mother told you fairytales
but she didn’t tell you this:

when the sun sets and the wolves run
you will find that sometimes
the princess and the witch are one
and red riding hood will eat the wolf

there is fire in your blood
a forest building in your veins
don’t try to lose the moonlight
you were meant for this

between dawn and dusk
you were made of miracles
and you can run all you want
but in the light of the moon
the wolves will always call you back

Unknown

female anger

April 9, 2019

The phenomenon of female anger has often been turned against itself, the figure of the angry woman reframed as threat […] She conjures a lineage of threatening archetypes: the harpy and her talons, the witch and her spells, the medusa and her writhing locks. The notion that female anger is unnatural or destructive is learned young; children report perceiving displays of anger as more acceptable from boys than from girls.

Leslie Jamison

I Used to Insist I Didn’t Get Angry. Not Anymore.

Web of Dreams

March 5, 2019

She wove a web of dreams
made of love and sex
trapping his heart to the spells
of witchcraft brewing
in the dark cauldrons
of the forbidden realms
hidden within the colours
of seduction swirling
in the magic of her eyes

his blood was poisoned
with a desire for the hands
he would never hold
his soul infected with a longing
for a heart he would never touch
helpless to burn in a love
he could only feel

a love she would never see

or touch

or know

and he lays trapped
in her web of dreams
forever lost
to the charms and spells
of her magic and witchcraft

helpless to the madness
of the rhythm of voodoo
drumming and beating wildly
under the bones of his ribs
his heart burning
for the song of her name
both forever and never hers

Akira Chinen

Unique Opportunity

December 26, 2018

eaten alive by longing

December 23, 2018

Most people are blind to magic. They move through a blank and empty world. They’re bored with their lives, and there’s nothing they can do about it. They’re eaten alive by longing, and they’re dead before they die.

Lev Grossman
The Magicians

The archetype of the witch is long overdue for celebration. Daughters, mothers, queens, virgins, wives, et al. derive meaning from their relation to another person. Witches, on the other hand, have power on their own terms. They have agency. They create. They praise. They commune with nature/ Spirit / God / Goddess / Choose-your-own-semantics, freely, and free of any mediator. But most importantly: they make things happen. The best definition of magic I’ve been able to come up with is “symbolic action with intent” — “action” being the operative word. Witches are midwives to metamorphosis. They are magical women, and they, quite literally, change the world.

Pamela J Grossman
the year of the witch

There is only Witchcraft

November 27, 2018

The Witch is the sacred Yew Tree, never dying, always shedding her skin like the serpent so she may ever live on in one form or another. There is no unbroken lineage, no unbroken witchcraft tradition in history. There is only Witchcraft itself, a wild thing that can never be caught and contained but insists on its wildness and on constant transformation, constant death and rebirth (as with all things in nature). Witchcraft is a survivor. Witchcraft mocks our definitions, divisions, tidy boxes, and white-washing, leaving a trail of feathers and bones through forest and city alike.

Sarah A. Lawless
Breaking Tradition

Witch

November 6, 2018

Lovely-eyed. Death-touched. Witch.

Odysseus Elytis
The Dream
tr. by Olga Broumas & T. Begley

The Sabbat Song

October 25, 2018

Sleep is waking, waking sleep
we ride the broom across the deep,
fair is foul and foul is fair
by bee and cat, by hound and hare,
the living die and the dying live
we turn the shears and the sieve,
light is darkness, darkness light
to farers through the mystic night,
up is down and down is up
to seekers of the cauldron-cup,
lords are churls and churls are lords
we leap across the bridge of swords,
birth is death and death is birth
we tread the paths beneath the earth,
Bride is Hag and Hag is Bride
Between the times we rage and ride,
day is night and night is day
for farers on the witching way.

Nigel Jackson
Call of the horned piper

witchery

October 13, 2018

Maidens stand still, they are lovely statues and all admire them. Witches do not stand still. I was neither, but better that I err on the side of witchery, witchery that unlocks towers and empties ships.

Catherynne M. Valente
In the Night Garden