Why You Might Be a Witch

Why You Might Be a Witch
by Theodora Goss

Because sometimes you dream of flying
the way you used to.

Because the traffic light always changes for you.

Because when you throw the crusts of your sandwich
to sparrows in the public park, they hop close
and closer, until they perch on your finger
and look at you sideways.

Because as you walk down the street,
the wind plays with the hem of your skirt
so it swings dramatically around your ankles.

Because as you walk, determined and sensible,
your shadow is dancing.

Because a lot of people talk to cats
but for you they answer.

Because the sweetgum trees along the sidewalk
love to show you their leaves, sometimes even tossing
them in front of you, yellow veined red,
brown shot with green and yellow,
like children showing off artwork.

Because when you look up,
the moon is always smiling.

Because sometimes darkness closes around you
and you remind yourself that it’s all right,
you’ve worn this cloak before.

Because in winter you acknowledge
that snow is a blanket as well as a shroud,
and we must all sleep sometimes.

Because in spring you can hear the tinkling bell-sounds
that crocuses make, and the deeper gongs of the tulips.

Because the river waves to you in passing,
and you wave back.

Because even the brownstones of this ancient city
look at you with concern: they want to make sure you’re well.
You belong to them as much as they to you.

Because witches know what they are
and if I asked, do you remember?
You would have to confess that yes,
you do.

Witch by Ida Rentoul Outhwaite

(The illustration is by Ida Rentoul Outhwaite.)

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23 Responses to Why You Might Be a Witch

  1. Maria says:

    Great πŸ™‚ πŸ™‚

  2. Maria says:

    Oh yes and I know these things well . A beautiful poem πŸ™‚

  3. Joan Lamp says:

    Yes, the cats do talk to me.

  4. Lisa says:

    The trees speak to me all the time

  5. Keechy says:

    That is so beautiful!

  6. azureeblue says:

    I absolutely love this. My whole life i knew i saw things differently than my peers and if they knew the word witch they would have called me it. I love talking to nature and my animals. I think that’s why i love spring so much, i can finally sit outside and not freeze to death. Thank you for these beautiful words.

  7. Donna the Love Princess says:

    Wind runs its fingers through my hair. Fire taught me to dance. Water knows my tears. Earth kisses the souls of my feet. Spirit makes me love people I don’t know yet. My father was Native American..there was a wildness in him that is also in me. I often feel more animal than “domesticated” woman. And I love those moments. When I listen to my intuition and my instincts, I am more me.

  8. Kaye Allen says:

    I found this poem to be very personal & beautiful. I flew as a child, but I’ve lost my magick…….

  9. How beautiful! I especially like “snow is a blanket as well as a shroud,/and we must all sleep sometimes.”

  10. Dorothea Photinidis says:

    Absolutely beautiful. So special – it talks to the ‘Real’ part of Being. I am a witch I know I am. All of these happen to me all the time that they are part of my life. A parking always becomes available the moment I arrive at my appointment – right outside the door of where I am supposed to be. Thank you for this poem. For remembering.

  11. “Because sometimes darkness closes around you
    and you remind yourself that it’s all right,
    you’ve worn this cloak before.”

    My favorite line in your poem!

  12. Amber says:

    “Because sometimes the darkness closes around you
    And you remind yourself that it’s all right,
    You’ve worn this cloak before.”

    This line really touched me… I needed to hear that today. Thank you.

  13. Jen Harris says:

    Because even the brownstones of this ancient city
    look at you with concern: they want to make sure you’re well.
    You belong to them as much as they to you.

    Just yesterday I returned home (Canada) from a boarding school reunion (Devon, England) and the brown stones I had to touch, thirty years later, made my heart sing. Dartington Gardens, including a yew at least 1,500 years old, too… πŸ˜€

  14. Linda Kliewer says:

    Loved your poem. I have always known all of this. Learning the Craft was like finally understanding myself.

    • Sue Ruopp says:

      “Learning the craft was like finally understanding myself.” That’s a statement that rings so true it’s a chorus ! It’s a coming home to yourself! Thank you for your words. I’ll take them to slumberland nowπŸ˜΄πŸ€—πŸŒŸ

  15. Mili i P T says:

    Am finding myself out… Love it❀️

  16. Penny Reilly says:

    I adore this piece and yes …oh so true xx

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