This fruitful, heavenly body is tugging at the womb inside of me, swollen light I guzzle eagerly. I feel the buzz of her beauty in my body, seeping from my pores as luminescence. Harvest Moons and golden-red leaves bring out the witch that has huddled inside my soul with quiet patience until October came to be.
She was lost for so long. Grief over losing my father, a marriage, and then a love I left behind – and the girl he knew, as well. But I’m glad to leave her behind. Her darkness overshadowed this crescent moon smile and orb of light. Crushed pink velvet and quartz in my hands, let me fly; fly; fly. Peony petals against my faded cheeks, and pendulums spinning in desire.
Autumnal breeze whispers in the air: Samhain, book of shadows, covens, Aphrodite, ceremonial, salt, crystal hearts. I wish I had a crystal heart; would it be more precious then, to anyone? If it was filled with light and rainbow prisms? If it was something bought and not given? But the whispers drown those thoughts out, and I cloak myself in the happy darkness. I don wings, light candles and decorate my altar.
I’ll walk the pagan way, as my ancestors did before me. In the forest. In the shadows. And alone – unless my sisters walk beside me.
Elisabeth Writing 
2 responses to “Witchy woman…”
It’s precious for the fragility that comes with being crystal, shattering in the beams of colour as prism blossoms unfurl their true faces.
Oddly, this post appears on the day of my birth – a day I have largely celebrated alone, wandering in search of all those forests. They hide in stars, in incoming tides, in fiery sunsets…
and, most engagingly, in crescent moon smiles.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Happy belated birthday! I think that’s a fabulous way to celebrate 🎊
LikeLiked by 1 person