I am the Sahara sand blown north by the summer winds. Covering the fancy balcony furniture in golden dust.

I am the whisper of desert mysteries, calling to the wild hidden deep in the bones of those cocktail sipping lake dwellers. Insisting they abandon all thoughts of saving themselves from this vital moment on.

I am the first ripe strawberry of summer and the unripe blackberries in the bramble. Rumours of sweet fruit yet to come.

I am the twisted branches of the old oak and the shades of moss so numerous and exquisite as to out do the poet’s grief soaked tongue.

I am the gentle wind that makes the catkins dance and your beautiful hair whip around your beautiful face.

I am the soft rains that feed the earth and threaten to wash away your plans for an easy day.

I am the white hot embers of the fire you prayed for.
Don’t forget you asked for this, conjured this heat with your own tongue.

I am the water flinging itself over the rocks, wild with longing for the fall. White with passion and delighting in the journey, even when the destination is oblivion.

I am a troublemaker, a moon priestess, a hedgewitch.
I am a hearth tender and a grief whisperer and I am on my knees again.

Bent down low to kiss the earth and devastated by the beauty of it all.

I want to know where I’m from
the very place—
a finger tip touch on a globe spinning
drawn to as by magnet
a return, cup filled
with holy water
an arrival

I am a hedgewitch
navigating the slippery edge
where land meets water
body meets spirit
I meets we—
listening
unearthing the violence
of conviction, the thunderous tearing up
of roots, my people unbound
and running
where are they? (where am I?)
If not in land and place
where do our spirits rest?

There in the lowlands, eyes softening
my bones shift and settle, senses
rise and quiver, and the winds bring stories
fermented by the sun
preserved by salty ocean
retold in the language of tiny creatures
and deep roots—
those that remained

I want to lie down in soil made up of my ancestors,
embraced by bones

I am enthroned any place that I sit
Hedgewitch queen
Anointed by the dirt on the soles of my feet
Briars scratch my arms and cheeks,
Lovelier than silver chains
Wandering queen
I claim every place I step for my kingdom