Come here and listen to the hag
Shamed and beaten
Torn apart and ripped to shreds by your own hand and tongue
Bones and blood
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
She is within and delighted you reclaimed her
That child, that daughter, she is you
Bless her, embrace her, forgive her
© Rebecca Walker
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
The witch continues on
The witch continues on
A deep sadness consumes her
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?
Her heart skips a beat
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.
The witch on the hill
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
By Rebecca Walker ©
Rebecca Walker Copyright ©2010 - 2020