Moira liddall

Contemplating what needs to be contemplated.....

And if we can.....and if we can't......and if.....

Witches of Galicia
In Galicia’s mist-cloaked lands,
Where rugged hills and forests stand,
The witches weave their ancient lore,
In whispered tales of times before.
By moonlit nights and fires' glow,
In secret groves where shadows grow,
They chant their spells, they brew their charms,
With ancient power in their arms.
Their magic flows through earth and sky,
In every breeze that passes by.
They know the herbs, the roots, the stones,
The secret ways to heal the bones.
But witches here, they do much more,
Than heal the sick or soothe the sore.
They guard the land, they speak with trees,
They summon rain, or calm the seas.
Yet feared by some, their power strong,
They’ve faced the fires, endured the wrong.
For in the dark of superstitions,
Witches were blamed for ill ambitions.
But in their hearts, a wisdom lies,
A knowing deep, that never dies.
For witches of Galicia’s land,
Are tied to earth by ancient hand.
They dance with spirits of the night,
And walk the line 'tween dark and light.
With every spell, with every rhyme,
They bend the threads of space and time.
Legends tell of Sabbaths wild,
Where witches gather, free and wild.
To honor earth, to honor sky,
To weave their magic, far and nigh.
But not all see them with disdain,
For some seek out their ancient strain.
To learn the ways of nature’s might,
To find the truth in shadowed night.
In Galicia, where legends roam,
The witches call this land their home.
A place where magic still holds sway,
In every night, in every day.
So if you wander through these lands,
And feel the touch of unseen hands,
Remember well the witches’ lore,
For they are part of Galicia’s core.