A Spell to Live, a Spell to Die

A Spell to Live, a Spell to Die

Good witch, bad witch, who am I?

I stirred the broth at quarter moonwalk

a pinch of sage, a touch of rue

the fire hissed, the night sat still

the owl on post just watched me brew

They call me names in whispered tones

some sweet, some cruel, behind my back

they cross themselves, they bar their doors

yet crawl to me when hope runs slack

One came limping, hand to chest

a lover gone, her baby cold

she begged for warmth, for time to twist

I gave her balm, I made her bold

Another spat upon my path

he cursed my name and scorched my tree

his wife grew pale, her voice went flat

she spoke no words but looked at me

A spell to live, I’ve brewed before

with nettle root and crowbird’s eye

a breath to call the soul back home

a tear to fight the will to die

And yes, a darker charm I keep

it sleeps beneath the second stair

a twist of hair, a thread of red

a name carved in an old oak chair

Good witch, bad witch, folk decide

the sky won’t part to mark me right

I wear no crown, I hold no wand

just kitchen blades and jars of night

I never lied, I only gave

the truths they feared, the wounds they knew

I never asked for gold or fame

just silence when the wind blew through

So if you knock, then knock in need

don’t dress your guilt or beg and cry

I’ll light the fire, I’ll stir the bowl

a witch’s spell so you regain life control