“That girl is poison…”
— Bel Biv DeVoe
I ate the poisoned apple,
And I didn’t die.
Rather, I learned to communicate with the Serpent. And remembered that being human is the honour of being a servant to beasts, plants, land and air, and not the other way around.
I ate the poisoned apple,
And I didn’t die.
Rather, I understand the value of approving myself than continue to chase the fickle approval of others. That liking myself is based on unconditional trust in myself, and that like-ability cannot be earned or lost. That beauty is indeed always in the eye of the beholder— and by eating the poison, I learned how to become the subject of my own gaze, rather than seeking to be an object for a man.
I ate the poisoned apple,
And I didn’t die.
I learned that though liberation can be experienced through restraint — “I am that which I’m not”, I can also experience liberation through ecstasy — “I am that which I am”. That pleasure, joy, play, wildness, sweetness, and laughter are qualities of a magick practitioner.
I ate the poisoned apple,
And I didn’t die.
I dined with the Divine. We danced, foreplayed, and loved in bed. She was still there in the morning because the Divine isn’t “out there”. She’s here. Right here.
I ate the poisoned apple,
And I didn’t die.
But what did die was me knowing things. Instead, I let the Unknown in, along with the irrational, the inexplicable, the strange, and the weird.
I ate the poisoned apple,
And I didn’t die.
Because I’m a witch.
Samhain blessings, dear beloved witches, beneath the Blue Moon. May the poisoned apple be your medicine.
Mimi XO
founder, spirit communicator + shamanic intuitive
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