That Poor Witch


This Halloween there was the poor witch walking down the streets of the town…

She was a poor witch because she couldn’t afford to buy her broom or a dress or a jacket. She borrowed a dress and a jacket. And she wore her own shoes and hat because that is all she had.

She had no regrets. Because Halloween seemed like a time she could fit in. She could finally be herself amongst others and be comfortable in her clothing. But what she held so dearly was the whole outfit that she freely wore outside and nothing else.

She joined the beautiful crowd and became a part of it as herself, the poor witch she was, and it didn’t hurt her.

Later on when she decided to take off, and as she had no broom of her own or anything she had to walk by. She felt the need to start crying in self pity on her way back to the mortal nest where she was resting. But then she saw on either sides of the street. She felt at peace. At this moment when I asked her is there anything you could demand from the universe for yourself, she just smiled and said, “nothing at all”.  She took few normal steps and few slower steps. She let the warmth in the oversized jacket grow into her. And all she told me was how the warmth made her feel at home more than anything else. She was grateful because of that warmth.

This was the shortest walk home, she said. She never really knew what home was or is. But she knew if she belonged somewhere then her heart was strong enough to make her stay.

The poor witch had no choice but walked down the street all by herself as she saw other beings walking by. Some minding their own business and some congratulating her on the outfit. She just responded with a smile and thanked them from her heart.

She coughed as she walked. She knew she had aged and that her time was up. She could not live around here anymore. And she had to find her broom that will take her back from where she was.

But will the broom really work she thought? Because the ‘costume’ that she wore  made her feel too much at home for the moment. She never wanted to leave this feeling of being able to walk by herself. Being able to be amongst the others and not having to worry about anything else. Being able to gather her soul and taking care of it on her own.

Because in the end isn’t that all we must do?

When she asked me that question I saw it in her eyes that she had taken care of herself very well and she still wishes she could do more. I asked her for a foto of her feet in the end as she did not wish to display her face. And she graciously without hesitating gave it to me. And then as she walked by the wind made her dress and her whole body sing a song that only few could hear.

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The poor witch that I met at Halloween.

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