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. ❤︎
