A Witch’s Curse
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

