Witches, black and white.

Home/Oct 2020

 It’s raining.

I can hear the thud of the drenching as it lands on the roof.

The cat appears like a dripping sponge on the bed.

I imagine getting up, going for a towel to dry him and then filling the kettle in the kitchen for tea.

Instead I bury myself deeper into the covers, hiding my head and searching for the dreams I had left behind.

They are still there so I settle into them forgetting the pools and swamps forming outside.

She is still there, waiting.

‘What did your mother tell you when you were a child I ask?’

She thought for a little while before answering; she was old enough, wise enough now to know that what she said now would travel with me through time.

‘It’s impossible to please everyone… » she began.

« ….so make sure you please yourself », I finished. I had heard this before many times.

At the foot of her arm chair in front of the parlour fire, under the apple tree in her garden and in the front room next to the piano which no one ever played.

She smiled, she knew that she had the power to affect the future even though she would never see it.

This was her power.

No one needed to call her a witch but she was as strong as any; white or black.