Mundane Magic Poetry

Kind Reintegration

I’m finally sitting on my couch at home, adjusting to life outside of the bubble we created for one magical week.

IMAGE: VasalisaTheWitch

Reintegrating from camp is similar to resting after a waltz. During the dance we move and are moved: embracing partnership, fluidity, synchronistic flow. Completely in the moment, it feels like nothing else exists. Then the song ends and the spell has shifted. What just happened? Now what?

I have yet to process everything. I don’t have words to sum up the experience at this point in time. Both of these things are normal and I’m not rushing the process. But while the sparks still fill my heart, I’m allowing them to inspire my hands to write. The following is an ode to my Tejas witches of Wonderland:

As Light divides the dust ahead,
Darkness slides between.

A middle marking post stands stiff,
loyal to all truths.

My spirit’s heels sink deep in dirt,
Stories clouding sight.

But crossroads call, the bellow clear,
what a magnet, choice.

My heart’s the part that holds the map,
Paradox, it pumps.

Eyelids collide, chest opens wide,
feelings: lead the way. 

Call of the Crossroads by Vasalisa
Samhain 2015

IMAGE: VasalisaTheWitch

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