By candle light,
the witches of Salem
prepared their names
for history.
Yet I sought no dominion
over flesh nor reality.
I desired no false throne,
no fractured identity.
Instead,
I turned toward the forbidden tongues
of Hoodoo and Vodou,
arts long buried
beneath fear and misunderstanding.
Let no hex be cast
upon the innocent.
Let no sigil be carved
for vanity.
But by mine own will,
I conjure against the trembling within me.
May insecurity be bound.
May despair be transfigured.
May fear depart from this vessel.
For the cruelest curse
has never been the demon outside,
but the voice within
that whispers
I am unworthy.
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