Persephone's Light: A spell for moving through the dark
I've been moving through the underworld,
on purpose this time.
Once,
I was trapped.
Back then, I felt powerless.
I believed I was made for the dark--to be tied to others' shadows.
Now, I move with the light of life,
Of Mother Earth's sweet love
and assurance of blooming
and warmth and home.
And so,
when I move through the dark,
past the roots,
to the decay,
and I take out my
magnifying glass and my scalpel,
to examine life beyond life,
Feeding on the disposed,
the rot,
I do so curious and with hope.
The tiny universes,
the hidden world,
the hurt and the waste,
might just hold the secrets of the stars.
They Can't Make You Forget
It hurts--
your throbbing pulse
and desperate gasps for air,
but you can't help but smile
because soft grass tickles your feet
and ocean breeze lifts you with
each stride.
You are made of
Waves crashing onto sharp cliffs,
and poetry told by a cackling fire.
You're made of berry paint
and ecstatic thrashing.
Your home-keeping requires quiet wisdom
and fairy blessings.
They tried to sanitize
your wild.
They sold you into servitude,
taught you to mate with your captors,
claimed the moon was unholy.
But you still control the pace of your heart,
if you remember those words,
the blood, the bravery, and threads,
that make-up,
the recipe of You,
you can still fly.
The Neck
My weapons are, sometimes, quiet--
Joyful pinks and party reds,
frivolous bells and stars
And soft petals--
You wouldn't guess that,
all this time,
I've been collecting pollen,
calculating which dose
will halt the drumming.
How can anything so delightful
pose a threat?
It's funny,
the smaller the glass,
the sharper I file my nails.
They dazzle in shimmery purples,
so much so,
that you've forgotten the point.
You were so afraid
of losing your crown
that it emboldened us to climb.
You weren't paying attention,
every time I knelt
to kiss your ring.
It made you careless.
Now,
I'm the Head Bitch in Charge.
You can go live in exile,
if you can content yourself
with quiet and pretty things.
If you're lucky,
we'll let you examine
the sparkle of our toes.
Audio version, recorded by Harmony
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Harmony Birch is a librarian and word witch who sees emotional processing as the first step toward community building and information literacy. She is drawn to the pursuit of truths that honor emotional well-being, cultural contexts, and lived realities. She believes creative expression should be accessible to all, regardless of skill or commercial value. Her word-witchery offers a lifeline for understanding feelings too vast for linear thought.
