Somewhere in the world

I run so fast
cold air bites my cheeks
somewhere in the world
my heart vibrates
when I stop running
somewhere in the world
I stand in silence
waiting for the seconds
that keep racing ahead
somewhere in the world
there is no violence
but I’m nearly out of time

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Women’s magazines

greengrocers – early afternoon
blue canvas awning heat
keen to get home from gossip
long daily excursion pointless
there must be more to life
meetings, Friday tennis, empty house
just her and the baby
on a merry-go-round

The way of the witch

no more history after blood
no rivals, for it’s who you are
kitchen witch feels and hears
teenage girls wanting to fit in
become disconnected from their bodies
dreams and spells written simply
hidden inside another story
the way of the witch

The first witch

The morning air was crisp and cool
When the first witch was burnt,
The day turned black as more and more
Were sent to the stake

Wise women of the earth,
Bending and shaping energy,
For the ancient ways
Brought healing to the land.

I wake up with sounds inside me

I wake up with sounds inside me,
rhyming like a childhood spell;

to be a witch I hone my craft,
personal magic to navigate the world;

power – magic – destiny,
I call on that spiritual force;

trust myself to walk the path,
to let myself drift among secrets;

connecting me with nature
for she is who I am.

I’m gone

I’m gone
no sound
nothing but night
dress torn
eyes dry
picturing blood
the knife
shoulders — shaking
just silence
and I was gone

The more things change

Gossip mongers fear
the fairy rath,
where December slows,
women sing at the bail,
warm palms against skin,
cheeks against bovine flanks,
milk sparse in the churn;

gibbous moon rings
fire lit faces,
bare feet scuff cobbles;
superstitious silence
drives poor women
from their homes,
for aren’t they to blame?

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