Griffiths 2 A Conjuration of Witchcraft Poetry The phenomenon of witches has both intrigued and terrified societies throughout history. Some narratives have envisioned the witch as a figure to fear, viewing her as someone who has a direct connection to the devil. Other narratives view the witch as a woman who assumes a natural healing role in society. Despite attempts to minimize and erase the existence of witchcraft, literature and cultural practices have sought to keep the witch alive. Both narratives hold their own weight the histories and the art that has been derived from these histories. It is important to recognize and explore the role both of these portrayals hold, and how they have guided the way we see the witch in our modern era. These various perceptions of witches transfer into the quill. As poets conduct their own acts of heresy, they begin to explore the various personas that create a witch. As metaphor, the witch may be a distant character acting in the backdrop of the poem, an identity that the narrator can become, or she might even be absent and the iconography of witchcraft becomes the centerpoint of the poem. In the crafting of witchcraft poems, poets carefully concoct cadence in the language and shape of their poems. In creating my own poems I have taken the metaphor of the witch a step further, looking at how witches man be carefully intertwined with a poet's personal narrative. In these poems the witch has the capability to become the narrator, or to become a character the narrator wishes to banish. The Wicked Witch Though the “wicked” witch isn't where the history of witchcraft starts, it is the first image that commonly appears whenever someone pictures a witch in their mind. These allegations found their root in the women who resided in small villages and appeared to be conspiring with Griffiths 3 Satan. Despite seeming like gnarly characters, these witches could be conjured up from innocent women, such as Gratiosa who resided in a Vienna village sometime during the 15th century. As she concocted sweet love potions for her admirer, she was also shedding light on the social gap between them. Once the scandal had broken out that a common woman had charmed a nobleman, she was charged with sorcery in court while the nobleman received a stern headshake (Savage 2). With these kinds of allegations, it didn't matter if the woman involved had innocent intentions. Instead, she was a pawn that could explain the unfathomable realities villages didn't want to face (such as having higher class men courting common women). Margaret Johnson, an elderly woman from Lancaster England, was one amongst a dozen women who were accused of witchcraft as a byproduct of village gossiping (Savage 58). After they had falsely confessed to their alleged crimes, their accuser—a young boy—confessed that he made up the accusations and that these women weren’t practicing any kind of sorcery. Despite having their charges dismissed, Margaret Johnson and her false-coven were left to die in prison, while Lancaster village would forget the shame of their messy legal pursuit. The commonality of these accusations is the trigger point for the wicked side of witchcraft. As villages continued to struggle against what they believed was the Devil poisoning women, there became a growing need to address the witch epidemic. Heinrich Kramer and Jacob Sprenger felt compelled to confront witchcraft through a religious lens. Despite its problematic history (including its condemnation from the Roman Catholic church), the Malleus Maleficarum was crafted. The introduction of this text offered societies a codified way to identify witches, prosecute them, and subsequently punish the devil's handmaids. While this book was denounced and rejected, the implications helped to ensure that witchcraft should be viewed as a threat. This Griffiths 4 installation of fear trickled into the 16th and 17th centuries as Europe began recognizing the need to address witchcraft legally. In 1542, English Parliament passed the Witchcraft Act which defined witchcraft as a crime punishable by death. It was repealed five years later, but restored by a new Act in 1562. A further law was passed in 1604 during the reign of James I” (UK Parliament) in which King James I began tying religion to heinous allegations in a similar way to his predecessors Kramer and Sprenger. In order to highlight the sexist framework of King James’ Daemonologie, Katherine Howe briefly summarizes the book's content.In chapter 1, she finds King James I creating “the description of sorcery and witchcraft” (31). In chapter 3, he begins “dividing [witchcraft] in two parts: the actions proper to their own persons and the actions toward others” (34). She concludes her findings with Daemonologies explanation of “[why] there are more women of that craft [than] men” (36). The transition from small village drama into national protection against evil women marks an interesting chapter for the wicked witch. These women were now considered more than just bad apples, they were fearsome and wretched. When the wildfire of witch panic would eventually settle, and “once people of all social classes had begun to withdraw their belief, the Devil-wielding witch had miraculously vanished. In her place there now stood an antic, half-crazed old hag with a broomstick, and a black cat” (Savage 73). In the wake of these evil women, authors would begin to pen her as an evil character. The witch instead became someone who would threaten fairytale happiness. The Grimm Brothers crafted many of these early fairytale witches. Their “[prime] concern was the protection of children from vulgarities, rough language, and blasphemous expression [...] In an age when fright was regarded as the most effective disciplinary measure [...] child devouring witches and ogres came in handy” (Dégh 93). Griffiths 5 As these tales trickled from Germany and became global classics, the character would become more and more pronounced. Instead of perceiving these women as victims of innocent circumstance, literature had chosen to portray them as “the monster-woman, threatening to replace her angelic sister, [who] embodies intransigent female autonomy and thus represents both the authors power to ally ‘his’ anxieties by calling their source bad names (witch, bitch, fiend, monster) and, simultaneously, the mysterious power of the character who refuses to stay in her textually ordained ‘place’” (Gilbert and Gubar 28). As children continue to adorn pointed hats and assume a horrid cackle in the dawn of Halloween, it's clear that the literary portrayal of the wicked witch was successful. The Good Witch In order to better understand the good witch, it's necessary to deconstruct her origin. Before women would dawn the shameful name of witch, they would appear as healers in society. As Ritta Jo Horsley and Richard A. Horsley describe that “wise women and men played an important role in late medieval and early modern Europe, performing such functions as finding lost objects, discovering the identity of thieves, healing through folk-medicine and enchantments, performing protective and love magic, and sometimes midwifery” (6). By having these special and perhaps “magical” individuals who were clearly knowledgeable in their craft, society could continue to function. With the introduction of religion these natural healers of society began to diminish. This turned many individuals away from seeking the help of healers, because “[if] people needed supernatural aid they should be relying on authorized individuals from the church” (Savage 40). Because occupations such as midwifery were reliant on passed down remedies, the villages began turning away these individuals, who were typically female, and Griffiths 6 would instead replace them with trained men. These women would soon find their footing by shifting into helper roles, making advantageous use of the knowledge they already possessed. While these weren't women who would happily call themselves witches, when the villages began to fear their perceived deviance they would be the first to wear the label. Centuries after women had been punished for witch accusations, feminists would begin to look back at this dark history to consider how we can view the narrative differently. By acknowledging the tragedies that became of many of these women, feminist scholars have recognized how modern experiences might parallel the past experiences of witches. Kristen Sollee highlights this dilemma, describing witches “as a symbol of female power, [and] equally a symbol of female persecution [...] for centuries the word ‘witch’ has been used to punish women and police female sexuality. Now ‘slut’ has become the damning epithet that is de rigueur” (13). By acknowledging the effects that this derogatory language holds for many modern women, it allows us to reassess the original dilemma. This leads to better visualizing the stories from the witch scare and recognizing how women who posed a threat by being too intelligent, too strong, too common, or too convenient would be elevated into a demonic position to explain what was “wrong” with her. By writing women into these dangerous roles, society created a simple explanation for why girls should remain “pure” in the eyes of corrupted authorities. As feminists began to push against this vision of the wicked witch, who likely wasn't wicked at all, they were looking for ways to reclaim the word. In 1968, a feminist group explored this process of reclaiming by using it as an acronym for Women's International Terrorist Conspiracy from Hell. They selected this historical figure to highlight because they saw witches as women who were fighting against oppression (Savage 105). Regardless of whether or not Griffiths 7 these women labeled as witches had genuinely been working against sexist norms, or if they had been completely naive and suffered wrongful convictions, feminists have forged the path for a new legacy in which witches are allowed to assume these healing roles once more, being recognized as good women. The good witch comes with her own magic; her stories don't have to translate from folktales into fairytales with the hope that her voice will be found. The new trajectory of the witch found its place beyond just literature, making her mark on the television screen. With shows such as Sabrina the Teenage Witch, Charmed, and Bewitched illustrating the magic a witch might carry with positive intentions. The Duality of Witches At the turn of the 20th century, L. Frank Baum introduced a duality of witches: “good” witches can coexist with “wicked” witches. When Baum's novel The Wonderful Wizard of Oz transitioned into the famous screenplay many of us know as The Wizard of Oz, the audience was directed to see that there are good witches, such as Glinda who helps guide Dorothy down the path that will lead her home, alongside bad witches, such as the Wicked Witch of the West who seeks to hinder Dorothy’s journey. While we have adjusted to seeing witches and witchcraft in a refreshing light, her history is still complex. As modern writers begin to consider the dilemma of the witch, the good witch is straightforward; however, when the wicked witch makes an appearance she garners attention. Songwriter Taylor Swift provides evidence of these wicked witches in her own songs. In “I Did Something Bad,” Swift explores how the media has portrayed her reputation in a flawed fashion. Using the metaphor of witches, she states, “they're burning all the witches, even if you aren't one. Griffiths 8 They've got their pitchforks and proof, their receipts and reasons [...] so go ahead and light me up.” While these lyrics pin a bad label on her, Swift is able to parallel the role she has been placed into with the familiar story of unjust witchhunts. Swift explores her perception as a witch again in “Who's Afraid of Little Old Me.” In the chorus, Swift sings, “so I leap from the gallows and I levitate down your street, crash the party like a record scratch as I scream ‘Whos afraid of little old me… you should be.” By exploring the witch this way, Swift is asking her audience to question their perception. One might take these songs at face value and assume this is a confession to her horrible image. Others might follow a feminist approach and question if Swift is a wicked witch, or if there’s an underlying reason that she's been put on this wicked pedestal. Features of Witchcraft Poetry Many poets, as well as myself, have taken to exploring poetry through the witch’s eye. By having such a complex character narrating the poem, the poet is able to explore their own personal narrative through a new lens. The witch’s duality lends to the craft of poetry in an exploratory way that complicates the narrative. With the witch varying from poet to poet, and from poem to poem, her metaphor can be interpreted in a multitude of ways. Sarah Nichols introduces herself as a witch in the poem “After My Mother's Death, I Became a Witch.” This poem first leads us into the witch’s complex relationship with self, as Nichols describes: I am the stain she smeared on // the world. I am instead the initiate who hosts // all the mysteries that Griffiths 9 she prayed to keep me //from. (3) The powerful portrayal Nichols offers the witch in this poem as she walks through a shameful narrative, inspired my poem “Graveyard Masquerade.” My poem uses a wicked witch to explore the destruction of long dead friendships. While there is a lot of shame that comes in accepting defeat and moving past what's already been murdered, the witch in this poem has accepted her malevolent identity: “there is no need / for my victims to hide / the memories of my worst regrets.” Nichols continues to use the witchcraft metaphor in her poem “Witchfinder” by leaning into the religious fear of witchcraft: you come to do the work // of a god you don't believe in [...] They can smell the ersatz holiness on your skin. // But that won't stop you. (8) This poem continues to explore shamefulness. A similar theme carries over into Kiki Petrosino's poem “Sermon”: Who shall change my vile body into a glorious body Griffiths 10 when I know there's glory at the end of my prayer? Who shall change my vile body into a glorious body? [...] I've planted my claws in the lioness nation. With claws in the dirt, I've pledged a whole nation. But who shall change my vile body into a glorious body? [...] O Lord, if my real life is lioness hunting— if she'll crown me with thunder when I get to her country— only then shall I come into glory lord, when I drown, when I drown, when I drown, when I drown. (Petrosino 28) By writing herself into a vile body, Petrosino is allowing herself to explore the power that comes with shame. By the time the witch in this poem drowns, she had already made a significant discovery. My poems “Séance” and “Cigarette Dust” channel into these wicked and ambivalent uses of shame. “Séance” uses the page as a way for a potentially wicked witch to explore her position in a bad friendship. By expunging the tainted origin she is also questioning her own identity as a person and as a witch. Within “Cigarette Dust,” I used a neutral space to question the process of feeling like the outsider in a strained family. By exploring these positions of shame from different angles, I am working to complicate who the witch might be and explore how various perspectives can shift the meaning of a situation. Cindy Veach explores a wicked power in her poem “I Filed for Divorce and Sundry Other Acts of Witchcraft Thereafter.” With this title she is allowing herself to assume the traditionally Griffiths 11 wicked role. However, her poem alters the anticipated sentiment, as she writes, “I am the damn stake in the landscape. / The firebreak that forsaken. / A rock cast into a still lake” (45). The poet is able to take on the witch role and rise above it. As I created “Brackley Exorcism,” I wanted to channel a similar theme while also working in a religious metaphor (similar to Nichols and Petrosino earlier). This poem takes the nightmare that has to occur to need an exorcism. The witch in this poem, however, is working to banish the familial trauma and craft her own spell from a Catholic prayer. While this varies a bit from Veach's use, it still works around that idea of accepting and adapting to overcome consequences. Taking this idea of rising above, I also created “Cabbage Patch Kids” to explore the journey of breaking away from a place that feels confined and discovering people you knew who did the exact same thing. As these poets demonstrate, poetry that uses the witch as a wicked metaphor doesn't have to imply that the narrator behind the poem is also negative. Instead, they are using wicked witches as a way to complicate the poem. On the outside, we can see the witches in Nichols’s poems as someone to be guarded against, the witches in Petrosino's poems as a vile ideal, and the witches in Veach's poems as contrarian women. By using this common perception, these poets are able to dive inside the body of the witch and expose how these perceptions might be twisted. Witches are complex, which is why there is poetry that idolizes them. Extending from this wicked witch narrative, these poets look to envision the witch's role differently. Millie Ho does this in her poem “She Who Makes The Rain.” By following the narrative of a mission grandma, Ho explores the following: She's not by the altar in the garden, // nor the gazebo where she needled bodies Griffiths 12 back to health. [...] It has not rained for many days. No more farmers lining up [...] Rain needles my face, rolls into the cracks. Grandma stands in the lakebed, hands raised, lit from within, fingers forking the sky. (223) By writing grandma into a position where she controls the universe, Ho has repositioned who the witch is. Instead of writing grandma into a wicked woman, she is using the natural healing magic that adjoins witchcraft to highlight the woman's importance. In a trilogy of poems, I work through the same process of idolizing and admiring the magic of a meaningful woman in my own life. “I Miss Yesterday,” “Mother Witch,” and “Incantation for Grief,” search for the version of who this woman previously was before a mental snap took away the version of her I had come to love. While “I Miss Yesterday” comes from a pessimistic narrator, the two that follow it reveal the magic that can come from the process of loving and mentoring someone, even when they are in a hard place. Similarly, Veach uses the positive nature of witchcraft to cope with divorce in her poem “Spell”: I cast my eyes knowing Griffiths 13 I could not look back. Those leaves escaping // the tree sparking the air, made me think of lightning bugs // when I hadn’t thought of lightning bugs since Bloomington. (59) Through this poem, Veach finds the magic in her surroundings and conjures a new positivity in her surroundings. This trend continues in Annie Finches “Little Book of Spells,” in which she uses poetry to conjure a variety of powerful spells. Her poem “Yemaya” shares the following spell: “Star of the ocean, flow wide in us; / Blessings grow round and abide in us” (47). Through these positive uses of the witch, these poets conjure a magical closeness with the situation. Even when the situation might not warrant a positive reaction, by using good witches and good witchcraft it is possible to glean a new and different perspective on the situation. I use this framework of reflection in “Old Years Day,” taking the Gregorian calendar’s version of New Year's Day and reflecting on a friendship that had been lost. I also use the good witch as a means of exploration in my poem “Epitaph of the Witch” by considering how a gravestone might encapsulate the mourning of ruined friendships. While a strategic use of metaphor is important to creating a witchcraft poem, it's also important to consider the cadence of a poem. The way that a poet uses the space of a page to Griffiths 14 create a sound and give the poem its own magic. Annah Browning tends to favor couplets as a way to build the scene through curt details. Her poem “Medium in the Morning” is an example: They say I live like Gemini the twins, or Rhodes—one leg //in this world, one slung over into the next. I ride a bad, //bad horse. I’m so tired of being vital, of herding. (36) Similarly, Annie Finch uses the space of a couplet as a way to position many of her spells. In “Yule,” the couplet says: “Vines, leaves, roots of darkness glowing / Come with your seasons, your fullness, your end” (21). By using the careful word space a couplet requires, poets are able to create a lingering sense of charm. In “There's A Cloud Which Consumes Me,” I use couplets as a way to create this same blunt but beautiful sensation. By using a careful form that requires concisensss in order to work, the confined space lends itself to the poem. I enjoy how poets use careful repetition to emphasize sounds. Petrsoino's poem “Elegy” uses repetition to both guide the poem and establish a rhythm. As the poem progresses, there is a natural change in the repeated meaning: On your coffin lid: Going Home. A bluebird there. Plastic ribbons dripping down. You left us // in a welter of bells and holy water. The Word of the Lord glazed shut the day. You left us to sweat our complaints, to our swollen wood- Griffiths 15 pulp tongues. Of course we U-turned, left // the wrong way home. No birds glimmered through the balding pines. You left us. (18) In crafting poetry, it's important to carefully consider the construction of a poem, especially one that circles around witchcraft. “I Searched for Your Approval in Thrift Store Bins” focuses on this changing meaning with the repetition of the phrase “I swear.” While using this repetition creates a fluid change in the poem, it also gives the sense that an incantation is occurring which adds another layer to the poem. By doing so it allows the poem to express the process of moving on from an old relationship and the effects you would hope the other person would also experience. Concluding Thoughts By having both good witches and wicked witches in a collection of poetry, a writer can tap into the complexity that the history of witchcraft itself has to offer. One poem in a collection may have a good witch narrating it, or it may come from the perspective of the wicked witch who offers various viewpoints for both a poem and a collection of poems. As I conclude this project with my own collection of poems titled The Kind of Witch I Want to Be, I offer my own series of witches who experience their own variety of complexities. While the perception of these witches will change from poem to poem and from situation to situation, I anticipate that there is an additional interpretation which will vary from reader to reader. Griffiths 16 Works Cited Browning, Annah. Witch Doctrine. The University of Akron Press, 2020. Dégh, Linda. “Grimm’s ‘Household Tales’ and Its Place in the Household: The Social Relevance of a Controversial Classic.” Western Folklore, vol. 38, no. 2, 1979, pp. 83–103. Finch, Annie. The Poetry Witch: Little Book of Spells. Wesleyan University Press, 2019. Gilbert, Sandra M., and Susan Gubar. The Madwoman in the Attic: The Woman Writer and the Nineteenth. Yale University Press, 2020. Horsley, Ritta Jo, and Richard A. Horsley. “On the Trail of the ‘Witches:’ Wise Women, Midwives and the European Witch Hunts.” Women in German Yearbook, vol. 3, 1987, pp. 1–28. Howe, Katherine. “King James I, Daemonologie, 1597.” The Penguin Book of Witches, Penguin Classics, 2014, pp. 30–40. Nichols, Sarah. Hexenhaus. Milk & Cake Press. Petrosino, Kiki. Witch Wife. Sarabande Books, 2022. Savage, Candace. Witch: The Wild Ride from Wicked to Wicca. Greystone Books, 2003. Sollée, Kristen J. Witches, Sluts, Feminists: Conjuring the Sex Positive. ThreeL Media, 2017. Strahan, Jonathan, and Alyssa Winans. The Book of Witches. Harper Voyager, 2023. Veach, Cindy. Her Kind. CavanKerry Press, 2021. Griffiths 17 The Kind of Witch I Want To Be Griffiths 18 epitaph of the witch scorned spirits, may i never forget thee whom i’ve disparaged. those i've cast daggers at that would light greater paths. those enshrined in alters who would condemn me to exile. when i stand in the pentacle and review our memories, scars live on. gardens of time grow new roots to strangle our imprint. Griffiths 19 cigarette dust familiar faces beckoned me into marlboro clouds, promised they were brethren the triad bundled me into a spare cloak cast a hex against the toxins that lay outside this haven. we were safe the smoke dissipated three distant shadows disappeared over the years I've searched for my family who linger in the ashes as if kinship can survive a decade of silence i watch how the memories fall from my friend's cigarette you’re always one match away Griffiths 20 cabbage patch kids as children we'd frolic through the cabbage patch collecting small tokens and sharing the treasures with one another. over the course of a decade you'd offer me your loose coins and candies for safekeeping. with every nightfall came a whispered folktale. beware of the leaves that surround you they may leave you confined to this patch you caved into these fantasies some years later when you left the nurture of our patch. i blamed your departure on the curse of the devil's lettuce. i spent years waiting for him to approach me too, I would gladly tell him get lost. one day i was tall enough to peer above the leaves and watch how the farmer would breed our home into his perfect prodigy. i noticed how the cultivated leaves would twist against me as i searched for your trinkets. the coins promised we could meet again at nightfall. so i waited, and waited. my only company was the moon, though that moon might be a searchlight preparing for my escape. when 3:00am came, i enjoyed the treats i had saved for all these years. combating the dilapidated flavor, your apparition stood beside me and warned there was limited time. as we ran from the patch, i lit the last trinket I had, watching our estranged home burst into flames. Griffiths 21 there's a cloud which surrounds me it's fog that consumes me, a heavy vapor that debilitates me when the cloud disappears, the wind promises it will soon return some days i can see lights peering through the mist other days my cloud blankets me in veiled gloom when my cloud begins metamorphosis it is no longer fog but a tornado that forces my soul to decompose nobody understands my cloud, they'll say it's probably just depression why can't they see the involuntary noose from which i hang Griffiths 22 exorcism of the brackley devil twin cottages shield evil that possessed it for generations inside lives the perfect nuclear family until the eldest sister escapes and the stepfather disappears survivors live to carry the cobwebs from hell we confidently undertake to repulse the attacks and deceits my mother's traumas becomes my traumas new generations of children learned to fear you three thousand miles wasn't enough distance you'd always find new ways to haunt so the wicked perish at the presence as layers of dust pile onto your grave the memory of you begins to die most cunning serpent, you shall no more dare to deceive Griffiths 23 séance candles lit from sage watch shadows dance, search for peace in a trepidatious meeting spirits threaten to interrupt rituals i crafted for you your name chants from my lips scars open the memory of our last goodbye your knowing smile taunts the wrinkles of my pain a prayer of redemption wants to vomit from my lungs in the depths of you lies a fable filled knife that you've used to torture me, even in absence as the candles release their last flicker i cast my hex: should your mask begin to crumble as truth unravels your deceit may you forever remain in the shadows of our shattered bond so mote it be Griffiths 24 Graveyard Masquerade i return with moonlight to adorn coffins of now dead friendships, a masquerade begins as skeletons crawl from my closet. costumed in battered flesh, the masks fall from their skulls. there is no need for my victims to hide the memories of my worst regrets. my first dance begins with elaine, laced in a wedding gown accompanied by a pseudo-skeleton fixated in my role as bridesmaid. in a well practiced pantomime, i live the moment her knife penetrated against my spine, followed by a shitty production of my cruel countermoves. in our parting the demented bride takes a moment to rearrange her veil, allowing the dove of her finger to parry against my presence. skeletons sashay around me, until white bones illuminate the silhouette sent straight from the pits of hell. tonight, the devil and i won't dance. instead he's just the chauffeur for a grimmer victim I returned to him years ago. the aged bone meets my waist, as i peer towards his face i notice there's nothing more to be found. the corpse of my replacement holds the head i once found dearest. 7 minutes we dance to remember the weeks, long wasted. i'll bid my never-loved-lover ado as he returns with his lord and entourage to the river of eternal rumination. Griffiths 25 silence fills the gaps between ghosts who celebrate my worst moments. at midnight we finally meet: the skeleton who never truly left. she feeds me sad stories, a reminder of the summer of sorrows. we cry over those who are too dead to join us, and curse those who i forgot to invite. upon our departure, the time we've missed finally catches up. as i peer back on her gravestone, there lay a bundle of white lillies. in the glare of bodies that wish i'd been banished from their eternal rest, I meet one last lonesome gaze. after months of my avoidance, you return to remind me of a nightmare i want to forget. how does one dance with a comrade who carries beside him tainted intentions? you appear maskless for the first time in half a decade. as we attempt a hand-less waltz as the world of skeletons disappears Griffiths 26 i searched for your approval in thrift store bins time spun as i listened to every antique record i could find. as your voice would twiddle between songs i would search for some hidden message i could bottle up. the air would fill with static and i would flip to the b sides. i swear, just before a confession could come, the needle would break and transform your melody into a piercing screech. i sifted through all of your old clothes, hoping you'd left your heart carelessly pinned to the sleeve of an old hoodie. in the corner of my eye you were wearing that specific hoodie, I swear you saw my hope dwindle as none of the fibers traced back to you. the mugs were stained with tea, not coffee. there was every kind of toy car except for the nissan where we'd almost kissed. even the snowglobes had captured the winter memories of eternal lovers. i swear, no knickknacks had remembered our brief summer fling. i skimmed through the bookshelves for any wisdom you might have left. the bookmarked cookbooks i couldn’t find a recipe for restoring what had been lost. the romance section taunted me that i hadn’t tried hard enough to conjure our lost love affair. the history section told me the key should be hidden somewhere between where your voice and heart laid. the horror section reminded me we would stay dead. i swear that you stood in the doorway as i left the store, i swear i saw you offer all of your best treasures to the next girl who walked in. Griffiths 27 old years day champagne glasses toast an embrace to the new that will come days linger on relics of past we bubble in the same cauldron life moves forward it’s an embrace to the new that will come webs form against your name on your phone we boil in the same cauldron in our world the reality hit there was nothing new to come chemical explosion in the steam rests fraternal truths i love you not much more than this Griffiths 28 I miss yesterday we sat in the garden watched the chickens peck at buds of grass you showed me the herbs you’d been growing they weren't planted to make potions, just because parsley pairs perfectly with pizza now we stand in a hole in the ground to harvest the moon, a week ago the trampoline stood here a few days ago we tore it down, before you fell apart you tell me the dog is my spirit animal i must listen to her every bark, every growl, every bite when you told me i joined you in the garden last night, that i'd transformed from a mouse and arrived on a broomstick it broke my heart knowing i wasn't with you last night yesterday being a witch wasn't heavy we could perform magick for fun, share secrets through sigils as they carry you away i wish to tell you that you're my mother by spirit, my mentor i miss who we were yesterday, before your mind snapped and beckoned you to the stake Griffiths 29 Incantation for Grief the waxing crescent moon highlights our coven and casts shadow in the place of our missing matriarch. as the night grows weary, we gather crystalline treasures in her wake. the sculpture of a tiny elephant brings us strength and protection. i remember the first part of our mother's spell: you're stronger than you think you are when the days lead on, she doesn't return home. every night i send her my love, wondering if the orb of energy can survive the miles it has to travel. i think i can feel her in my heart, sculpting her unique sigil to remind me of her love. i repeat the second iteration of her spell: remember who you are, and what you stand for our coven meets daily for updates. as we wait for her return we remember all of who our matriarch is. filled with her resilience, i craft my finale to her spell: even in distance, you are loved more and more Griffiths 30 mother witch as mother witch is exiled to her asylum cell all we have is one another. i searched for a chakra that we could heal. you can't heal the pain of missing someone. as we lean on one another, family doesn't quite feel right. the midwives might have a cure for insanity, but can they cure the ghosts of who we were days before the incident in this day of her absence i’ve missed the spells. i’ve missed casting our love for one another so directly, knowing that love could still be received. as mother witch sits in a hospital bed i wait for her to return home. i hope she holds onto that sparkle of defiance, the kind of witch i want to be Griffiths 31 epitaph from the gallows as the barren dust threatens flowers to stop blooming, cacti sprout their roots in protest. as you wish to banish the evil root, watch the magic float from my ashes.