I’ve never been more of a witch, 

than I am now, in this moment, 

named and claimed, written in fat, 

bold, capital letters across my heart. 

And it beats, it beats in time with rage

of the day I once thought you could 

teach me anything. I’ve got more magick 

in my teeth than you’ll ever have running 

through hierarchies. You bow to the Hierophant, 

yet I stand and turn on my heels away. 

Writing big warnings to those with witchcraft 

still in their hearts. 

Keep your own journals, free from prying eyes, 

keep your wits about you, look for the snakes 

in disguise. Know in your gut the subtle symbols, 

the wordless gestures, the traps they lay to keep you. 

Know this, and run, return, be sovereign. No one will

ever know your heart but you. This is doubly true. 

Watch, be careful where you step, and listen. 

There are no secrets. There is nothing to discover 

in a degree, or a slick sounding hierarchy. You 

know this. You know this. 

You have what you need already. Return to the 

altar, make it your own, fill it with treasures you’ve 

sewn. Pen big poems in bold ways, hex the 

bastards sideways. They thought they could fuck 

with a witch. Make them regret this. 

You were a witch once before, you are a witch now. 

Always, forever, into fucking eternity. That, they’ll 

never take, they couldn’t, ever.