When I was good, I was a sensitive and sweet-blooded Witch indeed. My ethics were impeccable, and my magick was so diamond white it could blind an angel.
Their eyes will get wild, and their hair will come undone. They’ll lift their chins and dig their manicured nails into their palms.
Feminist issues like the wage gap, domestic violence, harassment, rape, human trafficking, and the disproportionate amount of women in positions of power, all change drastically when viewed through an intersectional lens.
Call Her to wake now. Bid Her rise on Her shaking, wooden legs. Animate Her with the sheer power of your will, and help Her to stand and march.
She is the foam-born woman, and she is a tidal force to be reckoned with. She is wind and rain, and she was raised without the benefit of innocence. She is a self-protective dead stare, and she will not be asked to smile or giggle in the name of propriety and manners. She does not think herself ...
Drink this snake oil, and you will be fixed/enlightened/saved. Take this workshop, and you will be feminine enough to catch an awakened man.
You are the medicine woman unleashing a banshee’s cry at the old men marching outside of the abortion clinic. You are the Maiden dancing a body-prayer for clean water, and you will not rest. Your wrath is holy, and you won’t stop howling.
She can accept the ugly shadows as parts of her but not this cosmic blessing kneeling before her. Still, she does as she is told, nourishing herself with the Shadow of Divinity; she tastes like sacred nectar and ceremonial chocolate. She tastes like holy water and the body of the Magdalene.