When the chatter of forty voices, the radio playing indy rock, and the phone ringing combine together into a beautiful chord… only to fall back to ugly dissonance in their separate parts.
When the *flickerwoosh* of an old theatre ticket fluttering by carries the same notes as the opening song.
When glamours tinkle like bells, curses hum like cruel hornets, and wards echo deep with lullabyes and iron clad chanting.
When you feel the undeniable call to dance, scream, ANYTHING as the thunder booms and lightning rises in a terrible crescendo!
When you hear the lifesongs…that’s when you know.
When you use divination when flipping through radio stations.
When you hold and pluck notes from the air and bottle them for spellwork.
When your voice mingles with the echo of those flying with the moon during Sabbat.
When you pull the dull hiss and the painful cracking from your brew and seal it in the curse itself.
When you craft the words from the dream melodies that have no name into new names for yourself.
When you translate those bardic bittersweet tempos, a heartbeat, tires on gravel, bare feet by fire’s side.
When you hear that terrifying silence and damn it all, you fill it with your own song.
When you hear another, who hears what you’ve heard all along.
That’s when you’ll know.
Song Witches
Published
The Carving Witch 