1583

Witchcraft was hung, in History,
But History and I
Find all the Witchcraft that we need
Around us, every Day—

I fear ego.
Do I fear it too much to see it?

I fear conceit.
Do I abuse myself too much in effort to avoid it?

What is it that I crave?
What eye do I desire?

What rhythm moves me so?
And does the feeling hold me, thrill me?

Though the night is dark and cold,
It’s not the wind that chills me.

Would I choose my judge?
Would he be too kind?

I justify the search for satisfaction.
I fret; I do not satisfy.

Is it right to judge the world?
Is it our responsibility?

As my skin grows dry, and bones grow old,
It’s not the wind that chills me.

It’s not alright to be yourself.
You have only what no one wants.

I won’t get very far.
I’ll move neither swiftly, nor surely.

Be annoying quietly.
You can’t know what that tells me.

I looked back. How far did I see?
It was not the wind that chilled me.

Should I fear the chaos I love to feed?
What denial is enough to stave off greed?

I recoil in terror equally
From ego or mediocrity.

He likes the sound of other women.
I’m electric with insecurity.

As I take the thought and let it in,
It’s not the wind that chills me.

With sunlight sparse, and the world dark
You shine golden and gorgeous. My spirit ascends.
The glittering glow of your brilliance touches me gently, and the long darkness ends.

When bitterness overwhelms me
I lose hope, reference, reverence, and appetite.
You are the sweetness in my mouth that dances on the tongue and makes it all right.

While there is no nourishment for body or soul,
You are the honey that fills my hive.
You see me through the long cold winter.
You sustain my vitality.
You keep me alive.

Into fog, and in a fugue,
We flee from the fire,
Or watch from a distance
As the flames grow higher.
Our sight is short.
Our wants are many.
But if we don’t compromise,
We won’t have any.

When we feel what it is
To truly need
Perhaps we’ll find the strength
To stave off greed.
Our priorities are muddled.
Our fears feed our fight.
We become befuddled,
And forget what’s right.

We’re damaged, victimized,
And we can’t look away.
We welcome comforting lies,
And what famous faces say.
And we can’t understand
Why they don’t see what we see,
As the others hold hands
And dance
On the grave of democracy.

i’ll sit with your silence,
even when it’s loud.
trade my heartbeat for yours
if the world gets too proud.

you don’t have to shimmer
to be seen by me—
i’d still find your shadows
in a moonless sea.

i’m not here to fix you,
not here to claim—
just to hold your storms
when you can’t name the rain.

cool isn’t cold,
and love ain’t loud.
sometimes it’s dancing
without a crowd.

it’s small things, quiet—
like waiting in line
just to bring you coffee
at half-past nine.

if your dreams break down,
i won’t build new—
i’ll sit in the pieces
right next to you.

i don’t want the sunshine
if it don’t warm your skin—
i’d rather lose the light
than let you dim within.

so lean, don’t ask.
fall, i’m near.
i won’t fade—
i’m already here.

I don’t think I ever said
How much you meant to me.
My words were quiet, my actions small,
But my heart knew it all along.

Now that you’re gone, I hold on tight—
To the memories, the laughter, the light.
I wish I’d said it more back then,
My love for you, my dearest friend.