We’ve the right to dream, and that, I suppose, is the magic’s greatest power: the notion that we can pick possibility from the trees like ripe fruit. We are filled with hope. Alive with transformation. We can become.
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We’ve the right to dream, and that, I suppose, is the magic’s greatest power: the notion that we can pick possibility from the trees like ripe fruit. We are filled with hope. Alive with transformation. We can become.
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We’ve the right to dream, and that, I suppose, is the magic’s greatest power: the notion that we can pick possibility from the trees like ripe fruit. We are filled with hope. Alive with transformation. We can become.

What horrifies me most is the idea of being useless: well-educated, brilliantly promising, and fading out into an indifferent middle age.

Sylvia Plath (via inherwar)

WITCHES

do not let anyone
convince you a Witch

is something to fear. she is a female

with power, the healer, the magician
persecuted for being both woman

and extraordinary.

the men panic for their seat in the
castle. they do not know how to share

a throne. when you cast a spell,
they laugh, but make no mistake:

predators will cut off your hands
if you prove them to be useful.

they will cut off your hands
if they decide you are capable

of starting a war.

but you are all bite, claws, steel, filed teeth
and jaws, scratch, buckle, sparkling fists.

there is a fire. let them cower. howl louder.

see the wonder-girl who can swallow lit
matches, who manages to survive in spite

of the fifteenth street-side threat this week.
boy at a party jokes that women

are an endangered species. once,
I met a ten-year-old who had to cover

his little brothers eyes while watching their father
beat their mom to death. sometimes, I am all too

aware of the obstacle course getting home safe
at night is like. I have a weapon in my purse

that looks like a friendly kitten keychain.
I have heard the stories of brave women

made into headlines made into such-a-
shame’s. I can’t say I haven’t been warned.

tonight, you are angry and
outside, it is storming.

use your voice like a flamethrower,
a siren. they are afraid of whatever

this heat is coming from
and who she came here for.

who do you know named extinct?

WITCHES, by Blythe Baird (via blythebrooklyn)