Catechism for a Witch's Child
When they ask to see your gods or your book of prayers,
show them lines drawn delicately with veins on the underside of a bird's wing.
Tell them you believe in giant sycamores mottled and stark against a winter sky.
And in nights so frozen stars crack open spilling streams of molten ice to earth.
And tell them how you drink a holy wine of honeysuckle on a warm spring day,
and of the softness of your mother who never taught you death was life's reward.
But who believed in the earth and the sun, and a million, million light years of being.
~*~J.L.Stanley~*~
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