coven Archives | Page 2 of 5

Mind Your Manners, Heathen: A Witch’s Table Etiquette in Five Rules.

You don’t need my permission to leave this table, and I promise not to think you rude should you gorge yourself on my bounty and leave the mess to me.

feminism

Pray Here Too: A Witch’s Brief Her-Story of Primal Communion.

Alas, you know as well I do, Sister, that the real prayers are not said in such sacred vacuums. Once, with legs spread in the final stages of labor, the midwife’s voice caught and her face went pale in such a way that I thought my precious baby doomed. I begged to every deity I knew, promising ...

feminism

Memories That Haunt, I Thank You: Begrudged Grace Under the Blessing Moon.

To the lover who left us behind to go wandering, thank you for leaving a black-hole void in our bellies that ached so persistently we had no choice but to fill it with our own molten power poured straight down from the heart-crucible where self-love still bubbled.

feminism

This Is What the Primal Feminine Smells Like: It’s Not All Roses and Vanilla.

The Primal Feminine is not pure, and you know it. Let’s show them it looks like thick-skinned substance and defiant eyes more than pastel wings and glitter.

feminism

A Witch’s Bucket List: Shape-Shifting into Oblivion.

Squint and look at them close, my love, and you’ll see I’ve written the last to-do list you’ll ever need on these whimsical sculptures.

feminism

Spider Bellies and Black Hole Suns: Summer’s Shadow Lessons from the Wild Feminine Dark.

My suspension was a liminal space between life and death, and I saw the great mysteries reveal themselves in the Spider Woman’s busy work. I saw reflections of babes born and rock stars die in the black mirror of Her belly, and I saw the wild magick behind this so-perfect, so-flawed web in ...

feminism

She’s Long Gone: Sour Wisdom from Lilith’s Sister.

She’s long gone. She is hot-spark divinity embodied in goose-bumped skin and framed by spiraling bones. She is the high, rebel Priestess, now she knows it, and she could never return to the too-small, so-quaint life you were offering that made you God and her, disciple.

feminism

Priestess of the Holy Obscene, I Applaud You.

I’ve got some tales to tell that are too good to keep secret; let’s write of our debauchery in a new scripture where the verses speak of hard-nippled freedom and hedonistic revelry. Our parables will be recited by snickering, paper-skinned grandmothers after the little ones are in bed, and our ...