The mind’s eye knows
What the physical eye does not see,
It understands what the heart denies,
I laid a table with some trifles,
Momentary thoughts made visible,
Placed a bowl of stones,
So pretty,
Made candles glow,
Cinnamon sprig for scents so lovely,
I adorn and go,
But then return,
Something calls me to the setting,
This is my space,
What am I forgetting?
Charms of luck,
Of thoughtful teachers,
I’ve a space fit for a priestess,
I gaze upon the temple I’ve created,
And see myself reflected,
An image either I avoided,
Or could not see,
My naturistic heart,
At peace,
The mother womb,
Experienced with patience,
Has waited long for this realization,
Viewing this my altar,
I am more than I thought I was to be,
The title tastes like copper on my tongue,
Savory and forbidden,
I accept the honor be it bestowed,
In name I shall try on,
My ancestors are with me
Helping me to take the mantle,
To acknowledge their often fatal sacrifice,
For sacred craft,
From core realized,
I accept this name,
This gift,
Breathing out I speak it,
“Witch”.