They always call powerful women
born straight from the cosmos,
created to heal and mend others
witches.
They did that to midwives,
women who could bring
new life safe into this world
straight from the door of the universe.
They do that to wise women, still -
independent, smart, young,
single, elderly, free-thinking,
women-loving-women.
You say I heal you,
make you feel welcomed,
wanted,
accepted at last.
You say I scare you,
make you feel dizzy,
endangered,
out of control.
And I wonder,
am I one of those witches
who comes to you in the dark,
sits on you and steals your breath?
One of your night-time wives,
with pale faces and dark eyes
you cannot fight in bed,
with those well-trained muscles?
One of the women
you will try to punish,
you will try to possess,
in the bright light of day?
Can you stop yourself
from fearing my power,
from trying to control,
and simply marvel at my magic?
Please, I beg you, try to remember -
I am the granddaughter of witches
your grandfathers
weren’t able to burn.
