Apparently a Witch
I am apparently a witch.
Voodoo mom, my children call me.
Balance me, my skeptical son who pleads, by text
by phone or email.
I can’t feel my feet on the ground,
I can’t breath
I can’t see
I can’t stand.
And in the silence in another town,
across the country
across the world.
I hold up
the faceted weight
the mysterious stone;
my amethyst,
or paperclip
on a string
and watch
for a moment
the stealthy circle rise.
And ask the questions I have learnt to ask,
leading straight to the center
where threads tangle
constricted
and the hem
of ebony velvet
folds against the light
And the questions lead,
and I follow
the student, apprentice
scientist
flicking free
fingertips
bound by expectation
Releasing the realm
of set ideas
stark skeletons
against the sky
consciously
expecting anything
consciously
expecting everything.
Listening
just listening
Open to not knowing
The only way in
The only way to
not be blind,
The only way to|
discover
the unimaginable
intricacy
the impossibility
of what is really
happening
here.
I am a witch
a wizard yes,
and this
This is Magic.