Which Witch?

Rage itself is often taken on from somewhere else and may have been passed down through several generations. Under the anger, at its source, lies pain. When I am hurt, I become angry. There is strength to be found in rage and I can still maintain contact with others. In pain, I lose my strength and feel alone.
~ Bertold Ulsamer

You would think in my family

there would be some kind of ceremony,

a celebration for budding witches.

Every person who shares my DNA

is highly intuitive, and most

struggle in a world where admitting

you see ghosts, or you read feelings,

that you hear voices or receive warnings

through dreams is considered

downright crazy.  At the very least,

you will be mocked and teased,

maybe beaten by those who fear

what secrets you may uncover.

I have always been driven

to discover the stories of my ancestors.

These days, I understand that they have

been murmuring in my ears

since I was tiny, showing up in the wee

hours of the night, longing

for connection, with no qualms

at disturbing my sleep.  My grandmother

told me stories of her own grandmother

playing the piano when everyone was fast

asleep, sixty years after dying 

during childbirth.  Grandma knew

who was playing, and she told the most

delicious spine-tingling tales

about her family members, scared witless,

scrambling through the dark farmhouse

searching for a living prankster.

We come to this world with so much love

and loyalty to those who have gone before

us, sure that by taking on their troubles,

we’ll ease their pain.  Yesterday I tuned in

to inexplicable anger.  Whose is this?

I placed a huge rock of trauma I’ve carried

at my great grandmother’s feet — her unspeakable

rage at becoming an orphan far too huge

for her to feel, constrained into this boulder

that I gladly hoisted onto my own strong

shoulders.  Except I finally realize

that my greatest gift to her

is forging my own path.

She won’t ever be forgotten;

her steady stream feeds this river 

of life that moves me 

to my own destiny, the going

easier now as I lay my burden down.

Inspired by The Daily Word Prompts: ceremony

Take Heed

I actually heard a voice, sharp and urgent:

“Do not enter.  Turn around.  Go home NOW!”

Yet I sat in that driveway for half an hour,

wrestling in air scented by 40 chimichangas

I’d painstakingly fried.  How could I waste them?

I’d driven close to an hour to reach this party

held just to introduce me to a special man.

This was long ago before I understood

the power of my premonitions.

I didn’t heed it, instead rushed distractedly

in to meet my nightmare.

I tried so hard to save him

for so many years.  Instead he nearly

killed me, and I dragged my beaten self

a thousand miles to heal.

So a few years later when I dove cleanly

into the deep blue ocean

from a fishing boat a mile from shore,

when the voice screamed,

“Get in the boat NOW!”

I swam as if propelled by a jet engine.

They turned on the fish finder

in time to see a shadowy monster swimming

underneath the boat, back and forth,

searching for the delectable morsel

that had disappeared like magic.

So now I listen and when

the voice says, “Yes, go this way,”

or “No, run like hell,”

I do so without question.

A premonition is a gift

and I will never again stop

to question the giving.

Inspired by The Daily Word Prompt: premonition