To Thee—who feels broken, maimed, and overly-tamed,
misguided and trained to feel so much disdain.
To Thine—who wants to be awoken, reclaimed, and untamed,
inner-guided to feel the melody of being unchained.
To Those— who were burned at the stake,
hunted, silenced, beaten, discarded and raped,
from fear and projections of trauma and shame,
that twisted and turned into unrelenting hate,
all for the sake of another’s own misguided mistakes.
The abuse of power, that for generations waged,
that went held unaccountable and even unnamed,
that then became normalized and deeply engrained,
to go against the grain became an unlawful outrage.
They claimed to have great faith.
Spreading their ways,
they went on unrestrained,
and gained pathways that led to a global system of profit and fame.
Today— as I rested beyond the veil of unforgotten planes.
In between realms that shadow-cast voices from beyond the grave.
A message made it’s way,
through time and space,
only to land in a place,
where it would finally leave a trace.
I heard the cries, screams, and wails from the past burning flames.
From our foremothers and sisters, that were deemed witches in their day.
They may have been hung or burned at the stake,
but a flurry of flickering embers were left in their wake.
Their voices were never truly silenced nor left to be unattained,
but set sail on the winds to explain the unexplained.
Into the ethers they whispered and proclaimed,
as their fires fury flew home to that which is forever untamed.
Our great mother Gaia received her daughter’s bodies with grace,
and let them all rest peacefully in their sacred graves.
She cradled them closely to keep them protected and safe.
Then she spake to them quietly of their upcoming fate.
“Sleep for a while, my children, until you’re ready to awake,
This promise I give, is one I cannot forsake,
I will keep your lights burning till its time to rekindle the blaze.
A fire a year, will burn brightly in each of your names.
They will no longer be slandered, tainted, and stained.
But to keep your flames flickering through many moons that shall wane,
only to be returned in a time,
where your lives will no longer be made into a crime.”
For this was a promise to be kept,
as the earth wept,
for years,
her tears poured down in heavy rains,
for her daughters who were wrongfully blamed,
almost putting out the fire that was to be kept in their names.
Their bodies continued to be cremated,
their deaths sadly unearned,
and too many slain and incinerated,
while Gaia yearned and patiently waited.
For the Witches who were once burned,
were promised to one day be returned.
To reckon their powerful flames.
A fire still continued to burn in their names.
Their sparks howled and hissed as the flesh-filled smoldering smoke wafted in waves,
swirling around into the airways,
Breathed-in for centuries now, so each child that could,
would sense their pain and heartaches,
What was left of their scorched skin melted into the hearts of their kin,
Their bare naked baked bones burned down into dusty decay,
the cinders of their sooty-singed souls were sifted into the soil like finely ground grains,
buried deep, they dug down to sleep into the lofty landscape,
fresh seeds were sewn only to become grown into the very food everyone ate,
where we prayed over them, said grace, and gave thanks,
Their broiled blood bled into the waterways in which we bathed and even drank.
As the years went and came,
came and went,
only a hint of hope kept the fire burning in their names.
Mother Gaia waited for humans to be ready for great change,
she needed to know her daughters would not be deemed insane.
To live in a time where they would no longer be afraid.
Where they’d truly be seen,
not as a bitch,
bad witch,
bat shit crazy,
or overly lazy.
Nor have her wings clipped and kept in a cage,
no longer shadowed and ashamed,
stoned, spit-on, or deemed too wild for her era and age,
but generously impassioned in her creative rage,
a Wombin who is incredibly empowered and quite brave.
A time that has the courage to raise the human race,
to embrace Female power and with it your life-giving ways.
Dedicated to all those who were deemed “witches” in their day, who lost their lives in the centuries long hunt of folks who wouldn’t let their wild be overly tamed. Those who stood up to The Church in defense of their “pagan” earth worshipping ways. We hear you. We honor you. We are learning to stand for the earth again, have faith.
Featured Photo: Witchcraft Burnings, Digital Art by Ailinoz © 10/2002
Incantations of a Witch, Painting by Tom Shropshire
Menstrala School 