A Love Letter to the Witch Who Has Lost Their Magick

a radical sabbatical post

If you choose to take up the art of magick
you have also chosen to lose it

even the most devilish and beautiful of witches 
lose their fierce
and forget the words to their most familiar spell

usually it’s in a time of great and monstrous undoing
when the unfairness of the world
uses your own heartbeat
to beat
you
down

and then magick seems to be a thing imagined
bourgeoisie and useless
small-minded and exorbitant
abandoning you
even after all your vows
spoken between the moon and midnight…

what remains is this

the ability to breath into your stillness
when electric wave upon wave demands your distraction

to know the name of leaf
and how the fire bends

and that a witch never dies
nor does their magick

my words to you,
my witch kin, 
tangled up in your fear that it’s really, truly gone
is to remember 

Magick is impermanent 
un-guaranteed
there and gone

but as the moon is always full
just hidden from our eye

you are always full
if impermanent in your perceptions

always whole

because magick
remembers
you

As I am currently off on sabbatical for three cycles of the Moon, this post was autoscheduled (you can find out more here). May these words have arrived with the magick of not quite knowing where it’ll land, but choosing to chance it anyways. Want to know when I get back? Sign-up for Magick Mail below.

I look forward to connecting with you all again upon my return.

This post was made possible through patron support.
❤︎ Thanks, friends. ❤︎