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Wait until You See Me, Sucker! Party-Planning for ...

Wait until You See Me, Sucker! Party-Planning for the Bitter Beltane Lover

I don’t know what’s come over me! It just hit me, this most majestic epiphany. I’m going to throw a party that will put all other celebrations remembered by this browning garden of mine to utter shame. I am coating the trees in pink-gold glitter and draping blood-red sari ribbon from every branch and stem. I am cushioning the rough and muddy ground with silken pillows and bright blankets, and I am lighting the lamps with long, romantic matches gifted to me by a long-gone lover; I just may invite him tonight so he can see the perfection I’ve crafted on this lonely land of mine.

Yes, look what I’ve done, lover! Just now, I hand-painted the wicker furniture in all the colors you hate. I bid the Mother Tree heal over the bark where you carved your name near mine, and I am cooking only the foods you thought too bitter to taste. I am brewing the spicy summer wine that made you cringe, and I am pairing the stuff with chocolates shaped like soft-bodied Goddesses whose names you never cared to learn.

Oh, just wait until you see me, sucker! I am fastening the feathery lashes and painting my cheeks with yoni flowers. My hair is a wild rainbow of unkempt perfection, and I am layering every necklace I own over the neck you will never kiss again. I am pushing my humble breasts up high with my bare hands to spite you, and I am wetting my lips with the sweetest truths I know. My tiara is fixed, and my fairy wings are spread. Tonight will be a drunken rebirth, a momentous masquerade of nonsensical gothic debauchery. My love, I can’t wait for you to see the Queen I’ve become in your absence. I will lounge on my throne of moss and forsythia branches whilst sipping from my garnet goblet and waxing poetic by the light of the Beltane bonfire. I will be a temptress-muse to the hungry artists and blessed freaks who come to my fairy tale garden, and I will serve them well with long stares, sultry smirks, and raised, mischievous brows.

The tables are set with phallic taper candles already dripping white wax all over the blue velvet violets. So welcoming is my garden of delights, such a siren song to hedonism is the music I am humming, surely I will have to prune the guest list down to a select hundred friends lest my land be overrun by every thirsty beast in my town.

Don’t worry, lover; you won’t be left out. If I could forget you and your black demon eyes, I would. If I could have just one night of shameless passion, just one Witching Hour spent in passionate, long-tongued desire where your face did not mock me, I would gladly cut out all memory of our youthful, doomed love. As it is, every word you ever spoke is tattooed on my ribs, and I am incapable of escaping your name.

Oh, I am weary with wanting this Witch’s debutante ball to be glamorous perfection. It is moonrise now, and I’ve invited no one to my Beltane garden. I think I want to be alone tonight, after all. I’ll watch the candles burn down and drink all the wine by my lonesome. I’ll wake in the morning with puffy cheeks and fake eyelashes stuck to my wrists, and I’ll revel in those few first breaths when I’ve yet to remember you are gone. As the day grows hotter, I’ll plan this party all over again, but, just maybe, I won’t want to invite you, the wild lover who pissed on every hope I ever had. Just maybe, I’ll remember who I am without you, and I’ll wear these fairy wings just for me.

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Danielle is a heathen visionary, Aquarian mischief-maker, and word-witch. The author of Woman Most Wild and The Holy Wild., she teaches internationally and has facilitated circles, embodiment trainings, communal spell-work, and seasonal rituals since 2007. She is the founder of The Hag School, the lead teacher for the Flame-Tender Teacher Training, and believes in the emerging power of wild collectives and sudden circles of curious dreamers, cunning witches, and rebellious artists in healing our ailing world. As an Irish-American, Danielle’s witchcraft is deeply rooted in Celtic philosophy and Irish mythology. She believes fervently in the role of ancestral healing, embodiment, and animism in fracturing the longstanding systems supporting white-body supremacy and environmental unconsciousness, is committed to centering the voices and teachings of POC and LGBTQIA+ folks in her work as founder of Living Mandala, LLC and The Hag School and supports organizations and initiatives that do the same. Parent to two beloved wildlings and partner to a potter, Danielle fills her world with nature, family, and intentional awe. Find her praying under pine trees, wandering through the haunted places, and whispering to her grandmothers’ ghosts.
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Danielle is a heathen visionary, Aquarian mischief-maker, and word-witch. The author of Woman Most Wild and The Holy Wild., she teaches internationally and has facilitated circles, embodiment trainings, communal spell-work, and seasonal rituals since 2007. She is the founder of The Hag School, the lead teacher for the Flame-Tender Teacher Training, and believes in the emerging power of wild collectives and sudden circles of curious dreamers, cunning witches, and rebellious artists in healing our ailing world. As an Irish-American, Danielle’s witchcraft is deeply rooted in Celtic philosophy and Irish mythology. She believes fervently in the role of ancestral healing, embodiment, and animism in fracturing the longstanding systems supporting white-body supremacy and environmental unconsciousness, is committed to centering the voices and teachings of POC and LGBTQIA+ folks in her work as founder of Living Mandala, LLC and The Hag School and supports organizations and initiatives that do the same. Parent to two beloved wildlings and partner to a potter, Danielle fills her world with nature, family, and intentional awe. Find her praying under pine trees, wandering through the haunted places, and whispering to her grandmothers’ ghosts.

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