The Painted Dress
This dress will burn tonight.

It felt good, smearing terrible words in primary colors on the sacred garment,
no longer pure and hanging in my closet.
Tonight will be the first night without it, after I put it in the fire of cedar, sage, palo santo, ash, willow, frankincense, myrrh, and sandalwood. My fire will be so fragrant the gods will come down from heaven to make shadows with it.
I’ll place my rocks around the lips of the firepit, let them stand sentinel while we burn away the worst of us—the lies, the jealousy, guilt, shame, rage, grief, abandonment, resentment, vindication, betrayal, hurt, fear, doubt, and pain.
Up in smoke on this longest night, all the rumors and lies, transforming to ash that I control, feed to my flowers, take all of the ugliness, all of the hate, and create my own beauty.

About the Creator
Harper Lewis
I'm a weirdo nerd who’s extremely subversive. I like rocks, incense, and all kinds of witchy stuff. Intrusive rhyme bothers me.
I’m known as Dena Brown to the revenuers and pollsters.
MA English literature, College of Charleston


Comments (1)
Hope it goes well lass