Witchy Woman

If It Harm None
Poetry

The Jaded Edge

The Jaded Edge

She dances along the jaded edge of shattered dreams.
Precociously pirouetting above the razor sharp wreckage.
Seeing within their mirror image reflection, remnants of herself.
Raising her face and arms to the heavens, she lets the Magick flow.
The ribbons on her wrist now representing the ties that no longer bind her.
Though the show must go on for one, only pale imitations now play her old part.
Whirling and leaping towards a future free of dark betrayal and petty lies, she dances.
Seeing within the moon's glowing visage, a truth which she can graciously accept.
Watching from afar, she smiles as she sees the characters spinning like toy tops.
Still desperately caught up in a paltry performance she wants no more part of.
She dances now to her own tune though, happy to remain a solitary flame.
Forever looking down from the jaded edge upon that world she has left.
Taking solace in the art that is her true forte, she writes a new story.

Dying Embers


I looked at the sinking sunset
And saw dying embers
Of what we once were
But can never be again
Felt a searing pain
As darkness fell
Then I saw the stars
And Lady Lunar's glow
Washed over the wounds
When the sun rose much later
The healing had begun