Aging Craft

I am a famous high priestess:
One of Gerald Gardner's best.
But oddly, as the years go by
My youthful views just make me sigh.

Once I did my work skyclad
But now confess it's just a fad
Wicca's more than a smooth skin
Religion's not just for the thin.

So bare is out and robes are in –
So cover up from neck to shin.
Mere clothes cannot our power reduce
Unless skintight – so keep 'em loose!

Of course you have to make your own –
No patterns, please! And all handsewn;
(I'm quite a seamstress, I'll admit,
but that's no matter – no, not a whit!)

These second thoughts are the result
Of wisdom in all things occult
And have no underhand relation
To any aging transformation.

And as for all those whips and bonds
And making your own knives and wands –
These artefacts now make me fidget
When all you need is just your digit.

We're Pagans so we love the land
And all this hype of sex is grand,
But grander still is dignity,
These outside rites are just so twee.

A witch's power will work as well
Inside as out, so for your spell
Work indoors, dear, and do not fret
About irrelevant etiquette!

And that reminds me: The Great Rite
Is better done in dark, not light,
And less is more with this, my dear –
So practice it just once a year.

No, now that we've have all grown up
We see where we've been sold a pup;
We know now what is true belief –
Let's shed restrictions with relief!

Throw out those youthful Wiccan rules
And tell the sticklers they are fools;
For all of that was just a stage,
And we can shed it as we age.

©Alexa Duir 2004

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