Rubbing palms, setting charms
Shriveling dictators’ dreadful arms.
~
Tiktok cues invisible rules
For hands and hearts to lock
Insta calls and despair falls
Hear the wind begin to knock.
~
The trees and seeds find destiny
The river courses, wisps of epiphany
Strange colors sweep across the sky
Like mirrors reflecting witchy designs.
~
And lo, the winter wanderer
Awakens everyone who conjures
She who Leaves no Trace
Though you might shrug, “she’s a foul disgrace”
And from your mind has been erased.
~
But women of the deeper wood
Call Baba Yaga, “Doer of good”
They know beyond her mortar home
Is a gift of turning doubt to bones.
~
Offerings to her charge the spells
Collapsing roads to warlords’ hells
Fog and branches now descend
blocking fascist fiends’ desired end.
~
Vasalisa, Beautiful
Counterpart of Yaga’s rule
Eastern daughter, she exudes
Like the turning of the moon from dark to new
First grace, then freedom, and now truth
~
Here’s to those who call upon
the old ways who hum on and on
Songs of all the ancient suns
To live and be,
Sweet harmony
For greater hopes for all humanity.
~
So may it be.