Still Dancing (a re-posting)

Welcome into my witch’s cauldron
big, black pot
with iron, clawed legs
and a wide base, for rooting down down
Down into a fiery pit.

Brewing, stewing, steaming and rising,
swirling, twirling, bubbling and oozing.

Step into
my curandera’s cocina
where leaping frogs, slithering lizards
and reptiles
with pitch-forked tongues
rest dreamily as one wandering eye
marks time,
fluttering butterflies,
creeping beetles,
an Earthly, potent magic
assaults your senses.

Pungent, putrid, and foul-smelling,
Fetid, fragrant and divine,
aromas
of the sacred and the profane.

Ride with me
on my bruja’s highway
the twisting turns and angular perceptions
a fluidity of space
as flying forms
evolve in the night
and we
blast on through
to the other side.

Walk with me
on my shaman’s land
holding my hand, stroking my cheek
and whispering words
an uncommon language,
of places too celestial to tell
a world too godly for thought
and of an existence deeply rooted and tied
to all that is

painful, joyful and complete
sad, excruciating and extreme

whole.

Dance with Me.