sure, I am the Girl
sure, I am
the Girl
in/of
the forest.
but I am also
the Wolf.
and I have cut
myself, out of my
own belly, with a
double-headed axe.
riding and howling.
holy red
blood-letting.
hunting.
hunted.
by the lunatic light
of the
moon.
Hagtree
The Moon is a Hexagon
unleashing blood powers
in the sign of the Twins
7 thorns
for each trouble
I bury them
under the
hagtree
7 thorns
for 7 kinds of anguish
I bury them
under the
hagtree
6 sides and 7 corners
12 signs and 7 planets
2 pairs of 3 sisters, curses for 7
generations 14 days until the eclipse of the
sun
the stars are ablaze tonight
they each have position; a
fate-say the planets have hours
the Moon has mansions
the Moon is very red,
yes,
I see red
I bury my troubles
under a
hagtree
I, now, Cailleach
winter hag,
winter hag,
winter hag
gnarled arms twisting upward,
ah that red Moon!
a fae silhouette,
ah that night air!
they daren’t
cut me down
I am a mouth full of curses,
a triumph!
I can smell storax through my veil
I can smell the blood in the land I
can hear myself howling
I do not see a world of the living
I do not see a world of the living.
oh dark oh dark oh dark
I walk the mountains
clouds race past stars
I scythe bane plants for my basket
beneath a Moon gone to blood
chanting them to power
they come forth as their spirit
Lus Mór. Great Herb.
Venus. Saturn: not to be ingested
lest it burst one’s heart
I do not see a world of the living.
oh dark oh dark oh dark
there’s such a grief in me; Witch’s Bells
Ringing ringing ringing
I’ve been burned at the stake so many times
I laugh as my wings open with the rising heat
I know this story; get your pitchforks
I’m cast like a villain:
like a Blackthorn. Bitter as fuck.
I do not see a world of living
Oh dark oh dark oh dark
I saw a raven in a Larsen trap
Mór Rigan in a cage
yes, she foretold the end of the world;
in the hot sun in this field
They’re legal as long as you
leave water and food
rancid offerings
I’m an outlaw; a heretic
I undo the knots and open the door
delicate creature
I held her brief and soft
like air
she screamed in silence
before I set her free
flying weak and fierce and fast to the trees
I know, I know,
I’m a wild thing, too…
I do not see a world of living
Oh dark oh dark oh dark
I’ve a throne in the forest
Sunday families out walking hear me weep
(Ah that was nothing…c’mon…)
But I’m in the river,
washing, washing, washing
the bloody garments
I’m tripping over trash dumped
And you…what’s that?
Ah, you have butter and honey
Pfft.
You all need to listen; I have advice
My chants will win the war; stop
talking. Stop.
I do not see
a world of the living
*“I do not see a world of the living.”
—words of the Irish goddess The Morrigan; Her prophecy in the Cath Maige Tuired
Aepril Schaile is an American Witch living in Ireland. She frequents standing stones and forests with her fae canine Gwyddie; her phone is perpetually at capacity with photos of him. Aepril is a bellydancer and performance artist who has toured the US and Europe. She has been published in Coven Poetry Journal and Mistress magazine, and has performed her poetry in conjunction with dance at various events including The Irish Network for the Study of Esotericism and Paganism (INSEP)’s Magic(k) & Festivals Conference at UCC, Soul Noir in Dublin, and ABRAXAS Dance Theatre’s Rara Avis in Boston, MA. She holds an MFA in Interdisciplinary Art.
photo by Jr Korpa (via unsplash)
Crow & Cross Keys 