Burnt Offerenings

Riding the backs of black cats,

my team of witches crossed under several ladders.

We stormed through the town breaking mirrors,

while preaching the doctrine:

"7 years of bad luck doesn't matter."

Breathing life into the town folk dispelling vanity,

with quotes that evoke, whom you ask?

Burnt offerings covering the open skies in smoke,

as we laugh. Again they inquire, we stoke the fire and chant "who wants to know!? who wants to know!?"

Knowing not if they carry the intent of friend or foe,

we keep our rituals a secret.

For those who forget History,

are those condemned to repeat it.

We know well, we have seen it.

Aboriginals stripped of everything original.

Imperial genocide of their entire lives

with added connotations surrounding their black origins, becoming hijacked and demonized.

Caution has become our ally,

essential for our survival and revival.

Once labeled tradition,

twice labeled religion

and thrice superstition,

diluting our convictions to mere belief.

Who wants to know?

Who wants to know?

Our chanting will never cease."

- Ricardo Hanley Jr.