This witch once reached for a needle
to do nothing more
than patch some socks.
And there it had already happened:
she was a woman with a needle.
This witch now was a creature
that had always been there
always been right next to you,
but now seemed capable
to rip this world apart.
Has this witch ever done
anything else than
patching some socks and
cooking a meal
to keep her loved ones warm and alive?
Maybe,
once she had wished to patch another pair of socks.
Maybe,
once she had wished to cook another meal.
Maybe,
once she had wished to love someone long gone.
Maybe,
living for her had been deprived of things to keep the pain away,
and now and then she dreams of ripping this shell of her existence apart.
Maybe.
But no one knows,
and all they see
and fear,
and aim for,
is a women reaching for a needle.
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Intimate tale
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The tale of mental health in a burning world
“Wanna feel better?”, my witch asks me as she presents tonight’s options. Do we want to get drunk and risk a headache? Do we want to try out yoga again although we’ve never managed to take it seriously? Do we want to escape the last traces of reality by watching a sitcom and ignoring the…
Mistress witch writes 
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