My thoughts today are in my witching garden.
I don‘t even have a garden, but for some time within the past lockdowns I have helped a friend with his while hiding away in there from everything going on around me, and since my sweat pants radius has grown with each of these times for a few kilometers, I count all the pretty flowers I could find on my walks around the fields as well.
Witches belong into their gardens. They live in houses overgrown by ranks and have their recipes ready to cure all the petty issues desperate strangers pour out of their hearts to them, right?
As with every other stereotype, things are not as simple.
Reading about trials of witchcraft, I realized that it most often were not these wise women or healers who were trialed and executed, but rather individuals falling victim to a believe of an own complexity.
After everything I have found out about witches so far, I still deeply associate them with a garden, but not necessarily with one to gather ingredients for potions and spells from.
Witches were impossible beings, believed to hide among humans and endanger their souls. Witches had grown although they never were supposed to.
They were able to dream of things forbidden in this world and were able to feel things no human would ever be allowed to enjoy.
Witches are the blossoms of Dystopia and I feel close to them whenever I see roses with raindrops on all my Dystopia walks.
Why I am not a nice girl
I am not your nice, Christian girl next door, as you might have noticed. And this is not a role I play for this blogging project, or to promote my writing and music. This is me, and I stick to it, even when it gets complicated, and believe me: It becomes an issue more often…
Intimate tale
I yearn for those moments,When I existedsolelyin your eyes.When I wasnothingBut an image causingCuriosity.I lived in those momentsWhen you knewNothingAbout the scarsBetween myThighs.Moments that werePure and softAnd kept mySecretWithout anyFalsity.In those momentsI felt loveFor all the thingsYou mustn’tKnow.All the thingsWent looseWithin myHeadAnd found their wayOnto myTongue.I still amThese momentsWhen I hadYouAnd you deniedThe thingsI wanted…
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 