Witchcraft Broke Me

Magick has crushed too much of my soul. It gave me access to everything I lusted after, but the consequences were so painful. It turned my hair grey. It externalized my very creative essence into the outside world, then dropped it like an anvil upon my head. It hung me out to dry. As long as I have a human body, I feel that I will keep playing cat-and-mouse with desire.

The paths of obedience and worship were neither for me. I have been too independent, too erratic, so very random. Only unlearned a small fraction of my father’s stubbornness. Tributes worked for nothing. Rehashed deity felt like it was robbing me of service to my fellow humans. I writhed in the dark and bled myself open, dancing with each of my fears, occasionally overtaken by them. For what? To be society’s constantly broken mascot? I thought my path was about empowerment. My swords, my blood, my anger, my violence, they are all here too. My pet monsters. Now I try to keep my rage a secret. Now I have teachers who teach me just dealings, and my vice is kept at bay.

And so I walk, on the edges again, and this time I play with my light, and I let the light fill me, and I try to give it to other people. And I say “don’t fear the darkness either, we all have both, sleeping galaxies have both.” Make yourself strong, and don’t give your power away. This is love, it is not selfishness.

I have killed. I have eaten. I have wasted. I have wronged. But I have healed and I have helped. I am doing my best.

This is not about body parts or moons or ancient rites. Make peace with the parts of you that society has hated, but don’t impose that on others if it doesn’t work for them. Maybe we all have our own personal mysteries. I know for me, it is not about body parts. It's about balance.

Be well.