We are a bunch of wild women,
pounding drums and shouting to the sky.
We make the neighbors peek through their blinds
at 3 AM and whisper profanities.
We are gray-headed.
We are obscene.
We are pierced and tattooed
in the name of the Goddess,
and we do not respond well to threats.
We pray in full view of the public.
We lay hands.
And we go naked without regard
to fences and county ordinances.
We pour wine into hollow stumps
and wave knives at each other.
We have sex – yes, sex! -
and we enjoy it.
We are unapologetic.
We honor Hera with hamburgers.
We mark birthdays with body paint.
And we light fires,
mostly in sunken pits or porch grills.
Our houses smell like burned herbs
and look like disaster areas.
Our gardens smell like live herbs
and look like paradise.
We throw stones and celebrate the dead.
We eat pomegranates all year round.
We know twelve ways to cook a placenta.
Our church services end in margaritas.
We cast spells and own cats
and chat online.
We have been vilified, watered-down,
exaggerated and ignored.
But we are the ones
with the wind at our backs
and the fire of devotion within.
We are witches
and we are not afraid of you.