I was SO full of hate. I had, and still have, every right to be.Hate is full and warm, it holds your hand through the fire. I cursed the president, I cursed my rapists. It was for justice, activism, and stability.
I wavered on cursing my father, in case my loving dad was in there somewhere. Foolish. He then cut me out of his life for speaking my truth.
I tried to come up with a fitting final blow when it occured to me. Hate wasn’t the strongest thing in my life anymore. My poetry had stopped being about the pain he caused me anymore.
I talked of gardens, of oceans and laughter. Hate had gotten me through so much, but I felt I had gotten to a point in my journey that I no longer needed it.
Hate leaves me torn open like a fleeing friend. I don’t curse my father.
I write out spells to help me and others, instead.
If you have gone through anything and would like to talk, I am here. I can help with curses, I can help with spells, I can help with advice.
Much love.
Water Witches 