A Witch’s Curse

Lori McCray
Aug 28, 2017 · 1 min read

Some time ago, a man who didn’t understand me told me of my
sadness, which he thought I hadn’t noticed, or was avoiding, or perhaps
was in denial of. He said he felt it, like an approaching rain storm can be
sensed by those most sensitive to smell. For some reason his pronouncement
caused me shame, as if admitting I carry sadness marks me with a witch’s
curse I must bear quietly and bravely or be cast out forever if I speak of it.

Sadness is in me, but I don’t weep on a daily basis. My sadness is activated
by injustice, isolation, raw and rainy days, by wounds to my spirit, the spirit
of those I love, the spirit of those I’ve never met. There is no shame in sadness.

Let the witch who thought she cursed me try to take back her great gift . . .

LBM 5/16/01

little girl in shadow and light. Statue belongs to my dear friend Lourdes.

)

Lori McCray

Written by

Photographer, Poet, Musician, Mother, Mystic, Gardener, friend of wild creatures, swan whisperer. Find me on Flickr: https://www.flickr.com/photos/wingthing/

Welcome to a place where words matter. On Medium, smart voices and original ideas take center stage - with no ads in sight. Watch
Follow all the topics you care about, and we’ll deliver the best stories for you to your homepage and inbox. Explore
Get unlimited access to the best stories on Medium — and support writers while you’re at it. Just $5/month. Upgrade