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Rite of the Returned: The Springtime Majesty of a ...

Rite of the Returned: The Springtime Majesty of a Witch in Heat 

the house of twigs Verses Wild Witch Sensuality Witch Heat Danielle Dulsky

Lean close, lover. I have a confession you simply must hear before that haunted day of fire and debauchery swallows us both whole. 

The weather was wet between my legs, and that swelling spring moon lured me northward to the mountain gates of the graveyard where all my exhumed secrets lay moaning and dripping with the sweetest rot. I met my ache there. My eyes became jewel-red pomegranate seeds. My tongue sharpened and split so I could better taste the salt on the horned one’s skin, and my limbs grew long and lank like a limber birch. I was ancient mayhem housed in the soft skin of a storyteller. I was a living song of chaos and craving. A bride to the beast, I was, and a beyond-human longing to merge with the primordial infinite, I had.  

I pressed my bare back against an oak and howled the land to life. I called every seed to sprout and every egg to crack. My heart-drum beat in a rhythm so old only the elementals remembered the way of my muse, and I was desire embodied. I was witch. I was where the agony of tension met the joy of release. I was the spirit of every small death and the wild memory of every bloody birth. 

The dance was dancing me then, and I surrendered. 

the house of twigs Verses Wild Witch Sensuality Witch Heat Danielle Dulsky

I sang the old one to me. I gathered the slow-creeping ivy and wove that horned creature a beauteous braid from the strands of deep time. I wed past to future to present, memory to will to transmutation. I sang, and I wove. I sang, and I wove, all while the moon matched my ripening need. My craft met the moment and invisible hands tugged at the edges of my strange tapestry. I heard disembodied voices singing with me, and saw them then, these resurrected dwellers of the underground forest, these subterranean hags with afterbirth-caked hair and gold-flecked crystalline teeth. Crawling up from the depths, they were. Coming to join me in my lust, these beloveds. We shared the same appetite for the poetic obscene, you see, and I was not alone in my yearning to dance with that older-than-ancient vixen called wonder. 

Oh, lover! The horned hunter was right there then, shapeshifting from beast to beauty, elder to youth, sacred to profane. My peculiar coven and I presented our gift, this tapestry of time, and that god called the land stood strong inside our circle. We crawled to and through that once-and-future spirit. Civilizations rose and fell during our ceremony of becoming, and we swallowed the hallowed one whole over and over again. We came, and we became. We were a writhing spell of destruction and renewal, and we merged with things that cannot be named. We knew the truest divinity here, and we let the pulse of eternal ecstasy have its way with us while our flesh fell from our bones and stretched itself new again. We were the all meeting one and the one meeting all. 

Together, we were a many-bodied prayer to erotic undoing and rethreading. We were a bone-and-blood altar to this, the earthly season of honey-tongued resurrection. When our dance was done, we slept tangled in time, wrapped well in our ivy-woven tapestry, melting into the strange braid of all things that ever were and would be. 

When I woke, lover, I was only here with you, but the memory of that wild rite is fresh in my mind, so best ready your will for the springtime majesty of a witch in heat. 

 

  • 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.
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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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