Grace Of The Word Witch

Grace Of The Word Witch
© Surazeus
2025 10 30

Vulnerable to sufferings people endure, 
Anne weeps for how we struggle to survive 
in social turmoil of collective wars 
when tribes fight tribes over valleys of lakes, 
inventing myths about the Primal Father 
who rose from this soil at the dawn of time. 

Gowned in black dress woven from sea-storm clouds, 
Anne walks in gloomy Massachusetts woods 
with affectionate grace of the Word Witch 
born from angelic egg of the glass moon 
that reflects cryptic beauty of her face 
while bearing Book of Angels at her breast. 

Scarlet beams from the moon illuminate 
grove of oaks and plum trees around the lake 
where Anne places book on the large flat stone, 
then lights two candles that gleam in her eyes 
as she opens volume of arcane lore 
and chants spells she composed with blood. 

Vibration of her voice expands in waves 
which undulate as ripples of gold threads 
to weave protective dome of energy 
that gleams in flashing matrix of star eyes 
concentrating electric potency 
which spirals into tall ethereal form. 

Tall bearded man with sun-gold waves of hair 
congeals from sparkling haze of psychic will 
through pulsing specter of intelligence 
who opens emerald eyes of star-born power 
and gazes at young woman in black dress 
whose words conjure his soul from Book of Angels. 

Extending both arms to embrace the sky, 
Anne chants eclectic spell of radiant thoughts 
and queries spirit from the Netherworld 
to comprehend his name and lineage 
and how his timeless spirit emanates 
from star-dilating spirals of her genes. 

Immortal spirit beaming from her brain 
reveals through vision of his emerald eyes, 
"My name is Gandalf, wise King of Alfheim, 
descended from grim Odin, son of Skjoelder, 
and, through my elegant daughter Alfhild, 
my grandson Ragnar Lothbrok flows to you." 

Snapping Book of Angels closed just at dawn, 
Anne draws ghost of Gandalf back in her heart, 
then returns to her home in Ipswich town 
where she cooks breakfast of cornmeal mush samp 
sweetened with molasses, and apple cider, 
then writes poetry at her desk by the window.