You've all brought me to tears today as I read your comments and the way you're supporting and uplifting one another. This sweet community gives me hope for the future.

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Time frozen,

Hearts full,

The magic of,

An evening with friends.

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at the best moment,

I ask you. You say


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May 22Liked by Kaitlin Curtice

A late addition (couldn't finish it yesterday), and an unusual offering from me. Just passed 19 years since our firstborn daughter died, the anniversary of her memorial service last Friday. Front of mind, just now, she is. Not always anymore, but often. 'Magic' is the word that prompted me to write about her. Thank you for reading her name. Maybe even speaking her name aloud.

Madeleine Grace Paterson-Watt 89-04-14/04-04-28

Madeleine's birth was a moment

of intense physicality

(just ask her mother)

violence even

cleaving one body from another

so that the one might begin

an ongoing separation

from the other

transforming a baby bump

into a wriggling lump

given over to untested arms

against my wildly beating heart

--magic and

biological everydayness

big sibling to two sisters

at times accommodating

often disparaging

always loving

Madeleine blazed the trail

dancing her way

around our house

in the studios

on the stages

into so many fine hearts

--magic and

ferocious commitment

cancer growing

in developing ovary

punting her life

with football sized tumour

into utter chaos and challenge

not to mention

the chasm of anguish

opening like a devouring maw

swallowing her family

into its despairing depths

Oh that

some magic

or mystery

or miracle might

interrupt this cascade toward oblivion

this living nightmare

surgeries chemo treatments

assaulted our sweet Madeleine

but did not break her

spirit is strong, eternal

'oh daddy, don't be sad'


body succumbed

physical separation complete

textured flattened

colour drained

music silenced

heart crushed

mind numbed

spirit splayed

soul obliterated

existence pointless

and yet

and yet

and yet

she visits still

in her mother's gesture

an expression on her sisters' faces

tears on mine

the curiosity of her niece

always asking about Madeleine

and glimpses


vivid images

in the dream time





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Every thing has power (magic)

by nature of being

able to influence, heal, change

how dangerous to the status quo (power)

My lineage knew words have power (magic)

to alchemize unseen into being

feeling into healing

how dangerous to the status quo (power)

Knowing our power (magic)

means no need for an authoritative being

to explain, control, own and provide

how dangerous to the status quo (power)

Belief in our power (magic)

in what they cannot see as being

is our sacred reclamation incantation

how dangerous to the status quo (power)

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I remember vividly

the self-righteous

seminary classmate

make a beeline

toward the (unexpecting?)

systematic seminary professor

his "crime"

contradicting her belief that

Harry Potter was evil

he proclaimed it

wonderfully entertaining

as the "dark forces"

were about to descend upon him

his explanation

which I heard briefly

leaving the classroom

was that magic

for the wizards

was technology

available to them

I daydream having a

world with the

technology of magic

what wonderful things

we could accomplish

but then I remember

a divided world

with its own

"he who would not be named"

trying to bring others into

his pain and suffering

elevating himself

to ruler over all

bringing about a war

and oppression

with scapegoats

and exploited fears

to keep dark forces alive

to cause chaos

confusion and hatred

keeping us prisoner

I would rather have

the magic of this world

the awe and wonder

in a child's eyes

as they discover the world

or the magic feeling

of holding a loved one's hand

or the kiss of someone special

the things that are "both/and"

spiritual and physical

but also defy

emotion and logic

a forgiveness that unburdens

and liberates

a grace that heals

and transfigures

plus a faith and hope

grounded in love

so strong

that even

"he who would not be named"

may find

redemption and transformation

and lead a different,

new, and resurrected life

now that is magic

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Magic always seemed to be

a mixing of potions and

conjuring spells and

even using slight of hand

to bring into existence

something that was not there.

If that’s the case,

maybe loving the different,

helping the needy,

speaking out about injustice,

even conjuring up some


could be the magic we need

to heal us and connect us

and bring about

a more perfect union

we’ve yet to see.

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I don’t want luck,

I want integrity.

I want the angels to come down,

Gently slap my face, give me a drink of water,

Tell me to pick myself up,

And spin me in the direction of the trail

I’ve been hiking so I can continue to carry myself forward.


I don’t want something beyond me

To seize me, to lift my wings

And carry me - “me” and “it.”

I want magic,

Pouring between my cells,

Flowing in my veins,

Becoming me as I become it,

Being something I carry and wield

At once as it carries me.


Magic is not beyond me,

Around me, with me.

Magic is me,

Me in my core and

Me as beyond, reaching out,

Fingers ever stretched to horizons in no short supply,

Me changing the world as my world changes within me.

I have no end, nor a beginning,

Yet here I am, me.

And so magic must be here,

Magic must Be,

Lacing and wispy,

Emerald green and lilac,

Without being thought or summoned.


And then, every moment must be a magical moment,

With choice(s) and path(s), plural,

Multi-dimensional, irresistibly.

If we take each moment as magical,

Boy, what’s that world we’ll find at the turn of even a year?

(You say yes at the right moment. Magical.)

Magic, baby; can’t live without it, and… I honestly think that’s it.

Can’t live without it.

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Magic existed before science stole the spotlight.

It is mysterious lights in the dusk

and soft scented breezes that scrape the damp from the leaves and burn the heart with the thrill of sensory perception.

It is sounds of woodland creatures in the deep dark of woodlands.

The subliminal whisper that seems to come from all directions.

It is the covenant of lingering companions who share the birdsong and the breeze,

after the wine and the feast.

These are the moments that even science cannot explain because they are magic.

Magic steals back the spotlight from science.

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I've always been drawn

to the idea of magic

of powers

and potions

and spells

but the real magic

rests in the mundane


in the everyday threads

of a life woven with







a tiny sprout

emerges from the earth

yawns open its leaves

reaches upward

drinks in the water

soaks up the sunlight

grows deeper as it grows up


a tiny baby

laughs for the first time

uncontainable joy rises

smile spreads

giggles bubble up

belly jiggles

feet and hands flail


a ray of sunlight

peeks out from behind a cloud

touches raindrops

bends into an arc

bursts into colour

bows to the earth

lingers just for a moment


a sleepy cat

meows and jumps up

curls into a ball

nestles in a warm lap

nuzzles outstretched fingers

kneads its paws

purrs in contentment


a breeze drifts by as

coffee brews

bread rises

chocolate melts

onions caramelize

soup simmers

flowers bloom


someone falls in love

for the first time

or again

with a person

or a place

or a story

or a craft


a hand

or a moment

or a note

or a landscape

or silence

or skin

s t r e t c h e s


the snow and

the rain and

the leaves

fall and

the seasons change again

and again

and -


a poem forms

out of a simple word.

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Not something only contained

within fantasy books, myths and legends

It is here, spiraling all around us

Whirling within as the

miraculous beings we are!

It’s the sparkle of twilight

A shadow of mystery

The flickering glow of a candle

It’s the medium we are all immersed in

How it is felt




is unique to each individual

Whether aroused for

good or evil

depends on intent

It is either a prayer or a hex

An invocation or a curse

Advantageous for all

or for one’s own glory

Either way MAGIC is here

Even if you are blind to it

or don’t believe

it is still being practiced

Just look to the thoughts in your head

the feelings it generates

What is being repeated

is a spell, a bewitchment

a conjuring of your life.

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May 21·edited May 21

. influencing the course of events by using mysterious or supernatural forces.

so sez merriam.

sorta kinda maybe like how prayer is supposed to work?

Hey god,

no lightning bolts, please,

but, i was just wondering,

would i get better results if i replaced


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Moments of




Calm and contentedness

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Wizards and witches,

sorcerers and seers,

daydream imagination and

nighttime reads,

it all seemed like magic to me.

Funny men in top hats and tails,

slick card tricks and fast hand movers,

rainbow scarves with no end,

rabbits and birds out of hats and hands,

I loved the magic in it all.

Before the world taught me to fear,

before ignorance and insecurity drove

these jester prophets to the shadows,

before the powers decreed their false truths

magic brought light to my life.

Jesus was a wisdom teacher,

eliminating the distance between

the mystical and the magical,

the miraculous and the mundane,

transforming the need to define into clarity.

The magic began to flow again in discovery,

the awkward joy of a first kiss,

a child’s cry piercing the morning,

the last breath of a beloved,

love dancing in the embers of hearts gone cold.

If we lose the magic in our lives,

how will the whippoorwill sing?

If our magic disappears,

how will I find you out there,

holding the light to guide me home?

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What a powerful way to describe magic! (It's a word that means so much to me too, so I really appreciate what you've shared here.)

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I’ve been enjoying your poems this month-- this one especially resonates. Thank you!

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