The Seance Circle

November 2, 2024


Photo by Chris Davila

“Witches listen to the secrets of the Earth, work in harmony with the powers of the moon and understand the longings of the human soul.” -Dacha Avelin
Greetings sisters from beyond the grave
I rest here, legs crossed, arms wide, three eyes open
Eager to hear your whispers.

It is here that I welcome the Neighbors of the North
         Women of the West
                    Explorers of the East
                                Sorcerers of the South

My circle is safe
And it is yours.               
                       I grant you entrance to sit with me and join hands
        Together, our power is limitless.

These crystals — ours —
Are used to spew the stories of those taken
        Our ancestors.
They hold our hands and caress our cheeks
        As we script our tales into the stars
Galileo could never read our constellations.

                I stare at these walls and ponder drawing hieroglyphics with bloodied fingernails
        This tunnel, this artery, has been peeled off the bone
So spectators can behold the sonnets carved into its veins.


Our blood runs deep in this muddied river
A body that beats to our melodic mantra


        Our practice has never been understood
        Never loved.

                    It has been banished
                    It has been burned.


Photo by Chris Davila


Sisters of Salem had legs shackled and arms tied
Their destinies surrendered to fate
Oracles weaved our essence into a
single thread,
Later manufactured as unwanted necklaces
As we swayed in the wind
Backs arched on stakes
Chains punctured ankles
Arms up as we claw for a breath
Water filled their lungs
And tears reunited with home.

This sisterhood is all we have
This sisterhood is all that remains.


Freedom has been stolen from our hands.
So we hold palms, empty to the sky as we pray to
— Hecate —
 The mother who never asked questions and loved endlessly.


Mother of magic,
Savior of souls
Help us show the world our passionate
power.

Wind
Water             Fire
Earth


Open yourself to our pleas.
Sisters
            Roaming
                        Realms,
                        Brothers
            Sailing
Seas
We call you here to share your stories.

Tree leaves turn to orchestra
Birds weep to opera.
                    The gateway to our slaughtered                                         symphony has opened.

The world becomes still
Souls come forth
Do you feel them?


Photo by Chris Davila

I welcome you in
Use my tongue as your blade
Cut
            your agony into their minds.

What is your name?

Adrienne d’Heur
France, 1646
They said I worshiped the Devil
The only sin being present
Was the one they burned me in the name of
My tears engrained my face as they poured from my eyes
I was unstoppable
And they couldn't bear to see the sight.

Janet Horne
Britain, 1727
I was born with hands deformed
They believed I worshiped a man of malice
While I worshiped my world
This beautiful and pure world
My difference was my death sentence.


Marie Laveau
New Orleans, 1881
I am the Priestess of Voodoo
For many decades I faced lashings of hate
I felt their whispers and heard their prayers to strike me down
But I constricted my spine to stand tall
And so should you.



Our chronicles are ballads of heartache
        with a bridge of hope
    We tell them to soothe your flesh
        –Apothecaries of poetic potion–
           and bathe you free
                   of fear.
We are everywhere                           
You inhale the words we spoke with our hands joined
–Revitalizing respiration–                       
Our pleads of love                           
Feel us.                                      


Feel your chest fill with warmth.
Feel the grass tickle your feet.
This… the earth we have fed. ■  

Models: Noor Khan, Xavier Ruiz, Vani Shah
HMUA: Angelynn Rivera
Stylist: Vi Cao
Set Stylist: Maddie Abdalla


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