Bits from My Pagan Culture

Time does incredible things to a mind… Particularly when said mind is a malleable book open to the complex touches of change. So imagine what it can do to a title… to the content of what the title in question names. “A Tale of Mythology and Paganism” is the first post I ever published. I reposted the entry two years later, renamed “A Witch Brewing among Catholics”. If I had written the same story today, I might’ve called it “A Magaly Tale…”

The story would relate the same events, attempt to convey the same emotions, but the words would be different; they would show growth. And the same would be true of its writer. At least, I hope it would. For you know I’ve always said that stagnation is the scum of the universe.

Sometime this month, I will start sharing bits from my Pagan Culture blog. I will take some of the most significant posts (starting from May 2009), and repost them here. Perhaps “repost” is not the best term for it, since I’m not just going to copy and paste the original post. I want to analyze what I said years ago; try to figure out how my opinions (and I) have evolved. It will be a bit of rereading into the past, with the experience of today’s eyes.

Before I share the first post, I would like to ask something of you: Which would you find more interesting or satisfying, 1) the exact wording of the original post, with some commentary; or, 2) a full retelling of the events described in the original post, crafted by an older (and sexier *cough*) witchy writer? The latter, of course, will include some sort of process note.

Magaly Guerrero, Apr 2009I typed my first post sitting on that recliner, while living in Upstate New York. Yes, sitting…

Teeth Flashing Lightning

The cackling
of feet smacking sand
thunders back into the world;

insistent…
filling muscle and bone
with blood so hot,
that the tongue licks
nearly forgotten triumphs.

Under the ribs,
a knife births a burning flinch;

above,
in the house
where thoughts craft
life’s clay,
Brain kisses Endorphin
that melts into a rushing sea
and swallows quail.

Feet slow dance to a walk,
lungs work natural magic:
1, 2, 3… 28 breaths

before thunder smacks again,

teeth flashing
lightning.

Process Note (told you I was addicted to these things *sigh*): I was going to take a break from poetry, maybe two weeks… but Michael (AKA Grapeling) shared a prompt full of Neruda’s words and made me a liar. I mean, how could anyone resist? Look at this selection: “fragment, insistent, withdrawing, sea, clay, gnawed, empty, knife, suburb, face, house, blood”. By the way, my Wicked Luvs, can you tell that I’m completely drunk on running? And it’s freaking delicious!

for the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads (Grapeling’s Get Listed for May: Pablo Neruda)
Two Women Running on the Beach, by Pablo PicassoTwo Women Running on the Beach, by Pablo Picasso
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