Intuition and compassion combined with knowledge an effective healer make, yet, historically, women applying such skills – labelled witches – burnt at the stake. The
Ancestral circles steeped in lore – symbolism lost, and imminent – Geometric rhythms play with destiny, ascribe fates. (For Willow Poetry’s What Do You See?
Digging for gold in an overcrowded mine, the dust of narcissism blinding our passage. Rural roots worship celebrity – well-travelled hype overshadowing common decency –
Cigarette butts no longer linger concrete, but I swear the cloud of smoke lingers, the sweat of adolescent anxiety – the suffocating pressure to comply
Plump the lips pad the ass, pull abs in Push-up bras and false eyelash, botox, and brows Make us pretty much less witty – do
Even as we harvest the fruits of our endeavors, as the leaves of summer give over to golden dreams and light reaches through gathering clouds,