Traditional Witchcraft for Woods and Forests; A review.

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Traditional Witchcraft for the Woods & Forests by Melusine Draco is a wonderful read for anyone who feels the need to get away from the pressures of the city for a moment or few.

One of the very first books I read from Moon Books had to do with spirit animals and animal magic, and as a wolf I definitely need the comfort of the forest. This book isn’t just an instruction manual (like so many of these type of books are) it cuddles you up in forest and that for me is priceless.

I am lucky enough to have the follow up books to this first gem, and I am excited to start on my next adventure with lady Draco. I strongly recommend this book and probably will ( I’m pretty sure) the rest of her books. I also found her page Traditional Witchcraft so go have a look at that too.

 

In terms of style I enjoy that she is more of a story teller like I mentioned earlier. It also makes me happy that old lore is a recurring topic and that we get to learn and bathe in the wonders of things that we will possibly never be able to fully comprehend.

I think I have exhausted my thesaurus and just writing this review makes the hairs on my body stand up in excitement and admiration.

 

Definitely worth the time it took to get to this book.twwf

What Is?

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‘She asked me if I enjoyed listening to poetry’…

I could not reply,

Instead I turned and ran away.

Not noticing that the sky had begun to paint a landscape filled with neon

halfheartedly I passed by each section of this little world and stumbled,

evidently unaware of how deeply her unanswered question moved me

– haha – literally

To the point of falling –

over a little pit of nothingness ,

a picturesque silence of stories yet to be created, and after all what is poetry?

 

Is it not the symphony of breaths paired in passion?

Could one find poetry in hands trembling in fear of touching…

The uncertainty of possibly losing control if those palms were to connect?

How poetic is that look?

You know?

The one…

 

When knees and veins react to it as though that stranger’s stare is everything your life has been preparing you for.

If such sights induce poetic thoughts then :

how do we hear them?

Unless you press your ear hard to her chest in a rested attempt to caress the nestled bit of love in her arms.

She asked me whether I liked hearing poetry –

Well I’d sure like to find out about the sounds of her heart…

Until then I will keep walking, stumbling as I convince myself that the question was merely a passing of time in an exchange of casual conversation…

After all – What is poetry?

To all the girls who wouldn’t date me and what makes my partner so amazing

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I remember my first real relationship as if it had just ended.

First she told me I was gross for being gay. After that she asked for my number. She then made a point of speaking to me every day until two weeks later : we were dating.

It was excruciatingly confusing. I think what will always bother me about that is the fact that I was just assumed to be someone who had dated before and who knew what they were doing when it came to being with another human (let alone another woman)… And in the end I ended up being left behind because I clearly had no idea what I was doing. All I could do was offer that raw, unpolished version of an extremely infatuated me. 

Let me add a little note here: At the age of 15, I had to start working in order to help my dad out. The only person who knew that was in fact my dad. To the rest of the world, I seemed to be that ignorant  person who got into the party life a little too early and whose then only seeming goal was to work at a bar. BAH ! 

For the most part (and by that I mean my teen years) ; the only cursor I had in life was music. No one attended parents evenings, or checked homework, or even considered to enquire as to my state of mind or emotion.  So this is to be kept in mind for the remainder of this blog. Learning how to love, how to be attractive, how to adult and keep a relationship without any guidance was a little difficult.

I ended my second relationship because I was deathly afraid that it would turn out like my first. I then spent a few years trying to regain it… Because the emotions were still there… My fear had just become hers so; I take full responsibility for that. 

Number three … Lonely number three, was not lonely at all. We met at a friend’s birthday party and we somehow just knew. She was the life of the party and the center of attention. A first year in University at the age of 17! That in itself was something worth falling in love with. To be honest…

I have absolutely no idea why that didn’t work out. We didn’t date… We seemed to just miss each other going in and out of relationships; but it got ugly when my personal life at home started falling apart. I guess no one wants to be with a person who doesn’t really have much to offer in the realm of material things. My mother was one of those people so – I suppose she wasn’t the only one. After that I suddenly became repulsive and out of nowhere I was rumored as a stalker!

What a joke.

The worst part is I continued loving this person for many years even after all that. I will also not forget the time between. As I mentioned earlier; I was a little bit of a lost soul/nomad during this time. What saved me in the end was my job… As lowly as it may have (or may still) seem. There was a night when number three and her friends were partying it up at the place where I work. I was dressed comfortably (I wasn’t necessarily presentable), just comfy. One of her friends swopped some Euros with me . I gave her the Euros and she gave me a beer. I knew I was being cheated, but I needed to at least have a beer while I watched the one person I truly cared about – shut me out due to the opinions of other people. 

Now… That same friend of hers who so kindly supplied me with a beer that evening; saw me and my current partner at a music event a few months back, and to my horror she remembered that night as the last time we had seen each other. She then proceeded to add how “sad” that was and how awful that I worked at a bar. She assumed I had other work because I’d just returned from Germany… And I went to Germany in pursuit of someone else. I often wonder if why people look down on me for that only because they probably will never have it in them, to give it all away and move to another country; unsure of whether it is even plausible to be with this person.

Which brings me here. To this spot. This instant smile that forms at just the thought of my person… And she really is mine. I still struggle believing that sometimes. She truly transcends all understanding I have of humans. I’m a pessimist when it comes to humanity so, she’s a wonder to me! 

I was going to go through every heartache chronologically in order to get here, but I realized right now; that it’s stupid. 

For every girl who thought I was incapable, Rudi empowered me. 

For every girl who didn’t even bother to understand, Rudi has listened to me. 

For every girl who wouldn’t dare look for too long because I didn’t have much, Rudi made a home for me just out of the stuff her heart and soul are made up of.

For every rejection, she gives me smiles and cuddles, laughter, companionship, honesty, trust.

For all of my alone – she is my family. 

Wow it’s frightening … To read my own thoughts and know that soon; they will be solidified. 

So to hell with the things that hurt and scarred and scorched. There is no more need to compare myself to anyone or to be afraid of public opinion.

My person’s reaching out for me, so  – gotta go. 😊

Before Goodbye

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That morning she didn’t expect to wake. In fact she’d planned to never awake again. It was sunny, her head hurt a little, but apart from the head hurt, it didn’t feel like much of a failed suicide attempt.

Her food was cold when she got around to eating it; to her surprise her appetite had made an unexpected reappearance. She enjoyed every bite, and things seemed to be better. She mused that perhaps all it took was the bravity of facing her own mortality without fear… it was only after she had cleared her plate that she decided to get up and face the day.

Her phone rang as she was about to open the door. Luckily she hadn’t, because her mother’s worried voice echoed as she listened, not able to coherently respond to the rehearsed delivery of bad news.

It was meant to be her death, instead… the other got it right.

That other with the brown eyes and childish smile.

The other with her favorite lips pasted on almost perfectly… that other… no longer existed.

Suddenly the tasty food re exited without warning and her head threw her almost instantly in her own vomit. She was waiting for tears, or a heart attack or something that was other than the empty vessel she now related to.

The other … memory.

The girl in room  3 had no pills left to drown her life in and bleeding out would take too long.

The girl in room 3 buried both herself and the other that instant. She cut out the struggles and with a new clarity she realized it would have been better to breathe before saying goodbye.

Heritage Day

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Today is my last day

 

I manage to crawl off the bed that ceased to be coupled almost a decade ago

then land in my still relatively tiny bathroom, though my own physique seems to be shrinking by the second now

I look up at my reflection and I realise the purpose of mirrors

There is a headline,

my face

wrinkled and grey beneath its letters seems to unfold like an over ripe flower without ever having been touched

it says;

Heritage Day

I shuffle along until I trip over the now almost dry white board marker and I begin the list:

One: I inherited the dark lines of deceit off my mother’s core

Two: I learned how to live with being a liar

Three: I came as a foreign being full of love

Four: I was denied love but I’m still leaving filled with only those four letters

Five: Life was beautiful though the darkness is always the beginning of a new story

Six: I inherited the art

Seven: I will never forget

 

I rinse myself off and decide that it would be better to leave full of hope

After all

3 months before they expected me I was ready

13 years before I was

they weren’t

my family

 

The wardrobe whispered the call of majesty

I obeyed my longing eyes

past the dioors and my goodbye suit

I found the two letter phrase barely in disguise and I remembered why

Heritage day:

One: I learned how to judge myself better than anyone had ever judged me

Two: It wasn’t always sunny

Three: How to fake the smile through heartache

Four: How to cause the same

Five: My clothes are cheap

Six: I am unworthychocolat_l

Seven: I knew this each time we made eye contact… after all; we are self proclaimed judges

 

So neat, tidy and fresh I walk towards the lonely seat and the non functional tv

and on the top right hand corner of the screen

A phrase in white paint screams out at me

Heritage Day:

One: My skin colour murdered my first love

Two: I inherited the skill of not caring much for those attributes

Three: My father Died of a broken heart

Four: You saved mine

Five: Our life was puzzled together by vibes and muted sentences

Six: In the end, my quirks were irrelevant and your were my indica

Seven: I fell eternally asleep with the very thoughts that days and nights before had always haunted me.

 

Palm on palm now

My eye lids find their space

No tears left in me

My heritage day is eternal

and I only grew to know that the moment I looked into you!

 

 

 

 

Will you sit with me for a while?

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You have my word

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She calls me “love” like I have her home beneath my skin – like my veins are somewhere she could crawl up into and never leave. I call her “beautiful” like she has gold dust beneath her fingernails – like everything she’ll come to touch cannot remain as it was. But she will remain. She will stay. She will say she is homesick and I’ll know that she wants to be kissed gently like “Will you sit with me for a while? Will you hold my hand like it’s only you that’s keeping me from falling apart?” So I welcome her lips and her fingers like I’m opening the door.

I adore her.

I don’t know if my skin is good enough for her to live in. There are marks on the walls and stains from other lovers and if you run your fingers along certain parts you’ll find dust…

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