The Witch
the witch that is my name
cartwheels over the city
clowns around when there is nothing
here to laugh at
when there are only tears to spill
to dampen the grave dust grace
of lost stars and missed chances
you aren’t the only one
needing to be charmed back to wetness
not the only one who had lost his day
in the night of frustrations and distrust
not the only one who thinks
the witch that is my name
can do more that any one name
can possibly do
besides
you don’t believe in fairy tale stuff
there are no happy blending
no shuffled coils
that can ever lead you back
to the safety of the tomb
the witch that is my name
cannot remove the pain
that creeps into your bones
that leaves you feeling
like a ghost without a skin
cannot move you along this path
any farther than you are now
but will not sit around with you either
there are floors to be swept
things to be undone
the witch that is my name
flies around blind alleys
with the same discomfort as any other
lost hankering figment
the blood in my veins hurts for you
takes me where I least expect to be
and leaves me the word
the unutterable word
that cannot help anyone
that cannot bring comfort to anyone
but me
cannot replace your skin
cannot take your place
the witch that is my name
has been divested of all power
except the power you give yourself
This month I’m looking back to the pieces of mine that were published in the first Renaissance Conspiracy anthology in 2004. All of them under went the Conspiracy workshopping then a group selection process to pick out the ‘best’ for the several poems each of us submitted. Peer review that was a fun experience.
cage in the rain
This piece was inspired by a line in a poem I had read – the line went something like ‘the wind that is my memory’ I sprung from the structure to the witch etc. I straddle this balance between abstract and concrete, surreal with emotionally grounded.
I let the language riff on cliches: ‘happy blending,’ ‘safety of the tomb.’ Allusions to witchy stuff abound – ‘grave dust’ ‘charmed’ ‘ghost.’ The group loved the line ‘ghost without a skin.’
cage in the rain
The true in this poem is that I have had people tell me that sometimes when they get caught up in distress or difficult decisions they think ‘What would Duncan say?’ Hence the witch that is my name does a calming magic in their lives for a few moments.
cage in the rain
I pushed the emotion into a meditation on how I feel about being that witch – as flattering as it might be know the thought of me helps people it also creates a sense of responsibility I don’t seek. It’s not as if I don’t need that sort of energy in my life too. In the end I know I am merely a symbol for them and that the power is one they invest in my name is one that they can invest in themselves as well.
