 Come here and listen to the hag Shamed and beaten Frustrated Vicious Torn apart and ripped to shreds by your own hand and tongue Bones and blood Raw Hidden Through the fires you have walked It built you with passion From the earth you seeded It made you resilient From the water you were birthed It made you compassionate From the air the messenger’s whispered Your name She is within and delighted you reclaimed her That child, that daughter, she is you Bless her, embrace her, forgive her © Rebecca Walker
0 Comments
 This story is about a witch She went on a journey to the homelands of her ancestors She cleansed herself in the white spring and memories came flooding back Deep, deep in flowing water she spoke the words her soul remembered She met herself under the Tor, and saw her many lifetimes She had always walked in the twilight She worshipped the moon She had always seen the inbetween She had always felt She had always heard She had always been is service to Her As tears flowed, not of sadness but relief She promised to remember She was in grace The witch continues on She vowed to remember Back in her homeland She hears whispers Remember The witch continues on Remember The witch continues on A deep sadness consumes her Remember The witch was confused Remember; remember what you gave away The witch had cleared her past in the deep spring But what about now? In this life? Remember Her heart skips a beat She remembers As a young witch Pleading and praying to not see, because she was scared Pleading and praying to not hear, because she was scared Pleading and praying not to dream, because she was scared The young witch saw, heard and dreamt so clear The crone witch and the young witch cry in anguished unison The remembering of their oath in this lifetime The young witch promised never to use her gifts, as she was scared When the pledge was made, the young witch stopped dreaming in colour Her dreams that were once prophetic, were now in symbols She stopped hearing She stopped seeing She just stopped It was forgotten As the young witch matured, she had glimpses But it was forgotten As the mature witch turned into the crone witch It was forgotten Tears of sadness wash over the crone witch She cries as she remembers The oath and promise Of what she gave away She embraces the young witch and comforts her Tears flowing, she revokes all that she promised She releases the oath into the ethers She sees the young witch smile and fade into the past She is not scared anymore The crone witch embraces her future She is not scared anymore Rebecca Walker ©  I still remember the day Veronica died. It was over 17 years ago. Veronica was widower who came to live with us at the aged care facility, mainly due to her age and a decline in her mobility. She was in her late 80’s. She still enjoyed a social life and had large extended family who visited daily. During her stay with us she was diagnosed CCF (Chronic cardiac failure) and PVD (Peripheral vascular disease). As result of this illness, she started getting oedema in her peripheries, particularly her lower limbs. Her lower legs and feet became swollen, red and itchy. She developed several ulcers that would leak fluid. Veronica’s mobility suffered even more, it was painful for her to walk. She had daily dressings to both legs as she had about 5 ulcers of various sizes on each leg. This was and be could painful for her. We would administer pain relief 30 minutes before attending wound care to alleviate or minimise her pain. Despite her life limiting illness and the pain she was experiencing, Veronica had not been classified as palliative by her doctor, but the palliative approach was used. We were alleviating her symptoms, as we couldn’t cure them. As nurses or carer’s this a common approach we deliver daily, particularly in aged care. After a discussion with Veronica and her family, a end of care life directive was generated based on Veronica’s and her family's wishes, which included a Do Not Resuscitate order. So it was clear that her wishes would be honoured. One morning ,a fellow nurse and I went into Veronica’s room 30 minutes’ post pain relief, to dress her wounds. Veronica was on her bed as this was the most comfortable place for her to have legs done. Her breakfast was untouched, which the staff had reported to us. We encouraged her to eat and she declined. She did however tolerate some small sips of water. She was focused at the end of her bed. It drew her like a magnet. She had the most blissfully happy smile I had ever seen. I asked her if she had any pain and she said “no love”. Normally, even with the pain relief, the dressing of her legs was “uncomfortable” for Veronica She didn’t flinch once, she remained focused at the end of bed, and her gaze never left it, still smiling. My team member and I had both noticed this, but said nothing to each other. At one point I asked Veronica who was at the end of the bed. She smiled at me and gave me a wink, said nothing and returned her gaze to the end of the bed. As we finished and set her up for the day, I told her it was my shout for a cuppa and I would be back around morning tea time. Veronica was still focused on the end of her bed and just nodded to me and beamed. About a hour later the call bell went off for a staff assist in Veronica’s room, the carers found her not responding and in a semi-conscious state. Veronica was not for resuscitation (NFR). Her family and doctor were called. In the short time that we made the call, Veronica went into a completely unconscious state. She wasn’t responding to verbal or physical stimuli. Her breathing changed and she was Cheyne–stoking, (more commonly known as the death rattles) She appeared to be in no pain. Her body was naturally shutting down. Veronica was surrounded by staff when she died about 15 minutes later. Her family who were in the building just missed being present by about a minute. After she had died she still had that same smile on her face. The one she had whilst looking at the end of her bed that morning. I like to think whoever was at the end of the bed was waiting for her and she had comfort and peace in that knowledge. We washed & laid her body out according to her wishes, her family spent time with her and a priest came in to bless body and read her the last rites, as she wanted. We could all feel the love around her, and the family commented how peaceful her room felt. Her death was quick, sudden and in the scheme of things fairly unexpected by her family and us staff. But not for Veronica, she knew. I’ll always remember her, not for her death but for her smile. Her absolute beatific smile, that I can still see to this very day when I reflect. The whole universe radiated out of that smile, as Veronica met death with her smile.
 Pic : by Czlowiek Kamera The Witch on the hill
I am old, I have been here before, the memories remained My soul recognizes the hills, the formations, the smell The rocks mark my feet, the wind whips my lined face A storm is on its way; I can feel it in my bones A lone raven calls to me to find shelter The sky darkens and I feel the mother’s power Everything is electric The old gods are here I know them well Thor smacks his hammer, as the lightning bolts across the blackened sky I hear the roar of gods as the thunder shakes the earth I smile as I become one with the chaos The rain soaks me to bone, as I lift my face towards the sky gods If I had wings I would fly up there Yes, I am home They call me hag, crone and the witch on the hill They don’t understand the old gods that I have been in service to, for many incarnations They ridicule what they don’t understand They call it evil and profane Yet they come silently for my healing, wise craft and cunning way When all their prayers fail, they come to me They know I have the old magic flowing through my veins That I have birthed many of their kin, That I have stayed with their dying My herbs bring solace for their pain My bones when tossed, bring answers Still they fear me One day they will come for me They fear what they can’t control I am a force of nature that can’t be contained I don’t abide their rules And that is why they will come for me Before I go to the great beyond, I have a message for my descendants This is my last gift, as I will not return to be with you One day you will be free You will have no fear of pointing fingers or wagging tongues They will not come for you, to harm you It is a different world you will walk in You are many and will come into a time when the magic is most needed They may call you names and even fear you But in this time, it will be easier Many of you will have learnt to disguise the healing you do, after many incarnations of persecution They may still come silently, it is the way But do not fear They come for the magic, the healing and wise ways Be strong, be kind, be who you are meant to be The old ways flow through you, as I do Keep it alive Remember me By Rebecca Walker © |
Author
|
RSS Feed
