READING

The Hag Kept Singing: A Temper Tantrum Beside the ...

The Hag Kept Singing: A Temper Tantrum Beside the Dying Fire

the house of twig own sing hag tender thunder witchraft danielle dulsky

Holding my grief like a slow-dying hatchling, I sought out the wisdom of the pipe-smoking hag. My plans were to prostrate myself at her feet and lament fallen dragon queens, to bemoan the state of the world, to weep, to be soothed to sleep by the rhythm of her low-groaning rocking chair and be gifted some great maxim that would calm and cool all my boiling parts. When I found her, at long last, she was singing a tune of oak and holly straight into the smoldering ashes of a neglected fire, an otherworldly owl perched on her shoulder.

The epic moment I envisioned failed to fruit, and the crone had no comfort for me. She scarcely looked up from the sizzle, unbothered by my particular tenderness, and I fell to my knees like a wounded babe, howling and kicking and beating my fists bloody on the ground. Thunder was rolling in the west, and I clawed my hands into the coals and smeared steaming ash on my cheeks. I sunk my teeth into moss and spat dirt at the storm. On and on my tantrum dragged, the spell of the irrational, and the old one let me exhaust myself, her song uninterrupted by my fit, her owl unmoved, and her rhythm giving roots to my rawest rage.

My flesh softened around my bones in time. My blood chilled just a bit, and my shrieking wild quieted to feeble whimpers.

Still, the hag kept singing.

A lightning bolt ignited some primal flame beneath my ribs, and I roared a final, vicious poison hex at the lawmakers, at the arrogant beasts who claim rule over this boneyard land, scavenge and feed on fear, and wear crowns woven from lying tongues and family gold. I puffed my belly broad, gnashed my teeth, and retched that old guttural sound of a witch threatened with the stake. My body twisted into an otherworldly shape, and I was a living curse. I was a death sigil. I was a wrathful banshee’s torment and an eternal wail.

Still, the hag kept singing.

The rains came then, and the last of the heat hissed from the fire like the ghost of hope leaving a dying warrior’s body. I collapsed into a heap of fragile flesh, and I let the waters wash the mud from my lips. I let the wind take the rebellion from my heart, and I wondered if it was the smaller stories I need now. I wondered if I might put my most epic myths to bed and speak instead of the quiet under-tree ceremonies, of the solitary fireside rituals, the secret hexing of systems, and of the late-spring storms. I wondered if the stories we need most offer us more than a war won, and, still, the hag kept singing. I wondered what might happen if we stripped the shining armor from our flawed heroes, and the hag kept singing. What other worlds might we find if we slowed our pace, burned the map, snuffed our lanterns, and squinted into the shadows? And the hag kept singing. What songs might we learn if we pursed our lips and put our ears to bark? And the hag kept singing, and singing, and singing.

 

  • Author Posts
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.
×
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.

RELATED POST

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.