Just after dusk when, but for the trees, the snow and sky seem as one, I squint to see your twisted horns in my woods. My stone house has gone quiet in preparation for your arrival, and all I hear is my heart-drum’s anticipatory rhythm and the dying fire’s sultry hiss. These are the hours of my holy longing, my Witch’s want, and my Maiden’s impatience. I am a breath held too long before exhale. I am the ache before eruption, and, my devil, I have never been more alive.
Come to me, my horned God I whisper-pray into the window, fogging the glass. Come to me and show me my shadows. Let us writhe like the Ouroboros, lost in our sacred rite while the ghosts of lovers long-gone run wild in my woods. Come to me and tell me your secrets. I will open my heart and legs to you over and over and over again. Let me speak and be heard, dark one, for I have much to tell you of the venerable void between life and death.
The cards have shown me many things these last days, and I have been touched by a soul-deep passion for darkness. I know no state other than temptation now, and my desire for you could cast the moon irrevocably into the crucible of solar hellfire. No more games, Devil; I am ready to tell you what I really want.
I want a love that lives on in this body’s bones long after my soul has passed into the ether. I want a love made more holy by the impermanence of our flesh. I want to be licked alive, then to death, then alive again.
Other lovers have brought me pink, processed roses and store-bought cards, but I will not be romanced by too-tame things. Bring me a gift built by your long-nailed hands and covered in your blood, for I want to see the hunter-artisan in you. Show me how you see beauty in this wounded world, and I will do the same.
I see beauty in the worms’ dance as they crawl in and out of fleshless eye sockets just as I see beauty in the newborn’s wail. I see beauty in the white water dripping down the thighs of a Maiden well-loved, and I see beauty in the soft-belly and full breasts of a Mother. I see beauty in a Crone’s gravelly-voiced wisdom, and I see beauty in you, my love.
Horned god, I do see you. I am not pretending. Surely, you can feel my yearning from whatever Underworld cave you call home. I am inviting you in, blessed demon. I am bidding you come forth and claim your Witch not just for yourself but for the wild world. I am a red-veiled bride to the Mystery, and I will be loyal until the day my hungry ghost dances in the graveyards.
Oh, how I revel in my longing for you! Under this full Lovers’ Moon, I have painted a portrait of us together and hung it high above my hearth. I stared into your black eyes for hours this morning, body-praying to you with my hand between my legs. You might think I would want you less for that but no; I could not want you more. I want the deepest, most shunned and guilt-ridden parts of you to consume my inner-wicked in a torrent of wildfire. Let us fuck our shadowy shame into the light and keep it there for all to see.
Devil, we owe an explanation to no one. Let them talk. This body is mine to pleasure and please, and, tonight, I have painted your symbols on my bare-breasted heart. The candles are lit and dripping. The wine is poured. I am burning mandrake root with some mugwort, and I have surrounded the bed with rose quartz and black tourmaline.
There is magick in all things, and there is magick in lust.
Darkest beloved, this love spell is for you alone, and I am calling you home. Nest with me tonight as the Winter moon glows bright. Love me like the devil has always loved the Witch. Let’s do things to make the fairer Gods blush.
Love me tonight, sacred creature, for I am your Priestess from now until forever.
Danielle Dulsky is a long-time activist for wild woman spirituality and the divine feminine’s return. She is the author of Woman Most Wild (coming May 2017 from New World Library). A multi-media artist, yoga teacher and teacher trainer, and energy worker, Danielle is on a mission to inspire women to be fearless...