This is the story of my life, upon exit from a Christian fundamentalist cult. The narrative isn’t magical or colorful. Rather, it’s completely mundane. Devoid of details.
The rather disturbing side of it was that you’d not imagine entering a storm all charcoal gray with a hint of muskox, and white mixed around on the palette, but perhaps a wedge of darkness carved out of the essence of life.
I imagine that no one could see this coming, but the bottom line is, it’s been coming for years.
I am a Witch. It’s like Bruce Andrews’ I Am Your Problem which is sympathetically one of my favorite poems. Saying I am a Witch is like saying I Am Your Problem, because being a woman is like being a problem.
The thing is that if you say this, you’re a Jesus-Motherfucking-Christ Commie, at least that’s what they call me.
I like to think of myself as Daeneryes, whom is like a Mother-Earth, the Mother-Earth, the Mother of Third Wave or sex-positivism. et al.
Is Witchcraft really like walking with the Devil? Like being the Devil’s handmaid? It’s unlikely it’s that, because that’s just impossible.
Witchcraft is most likely a nature worship, because nature is beautiful after-all. Witchcraft is femininity and vulgarity because they go hand-in-hand. Witchcraft is an interesting case of loyalty and friendship and kinship with the world.
I am your problem stardust and…
I am your problem, feminine and
I am your problem, you believe the crevices of my body are filled with blood…
I am your problem, lady, female, lioness, goddess…
I am your problem, genuine vulgarity in an egg shell coated…
I am your problem because your society calls me a witch.