Witch Life

I’m a psychopomp —
born of blood memory,
walking with the dead and the living.

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Not to lead or follow,
but to ignite the path
you forgot you built.

 

I live in the in-between —
the hush at your door,
the storm that knows your name.

 

The elements are not outside of us —
they are us.
When I touch them, they remember me.
And in remembering me —
they remember you.

 

Fire — reckoning.
Water — release.
Earth — remembrance.
Air — return.

 

You don’t need to be perfect
to be powerful.

 

Magic isn’t learned —
it’s remembered.

 

Here, the veil thins.
Here is where
your becoming begins.