Merry Yule


May the shortest day and longest night bring you time to reflect on the return of the time!

Yule Blessing

Blessed be and merry meet

Now it is the time for sleep

This year’s harvest stored away

Rested, warm, and fed we stay

Prepare and plan for new endeavors

Prep and preen fur, scales, and feathers

Start anew from blessed sleep

My will be done, so mote it be



~Piper Rain

I can feel your contempt for me,
It’s all my fault I’m sure
I armor myself, soon I’m free,
The damage is endured

Mind Solid, Spirit Strong
Removing myself from the throng
Breaking the chains, the traps, the box
Though they’re all still there and locked

I see them now,
Avoid them
I’m breathing now,
Despite them
I’m still choking but the pressure’s going away

I refuse to fight,
I hate conflict
But it’s “unavoidable” and “right”
Especially when you self-inflict

Take your “justice,” it’s all yours
Don’t expect me to participate
Don’t think me weak, you’ve seen my scars
But I refuse to instigate

No satisfying sweet revenge
Judicial or profound amends
I already know the end
I only have to get there

You will figure it out, you’ll see,
Or you won’t, but it no longer changes me.


~Piper Rain

I cringed while you were speaking
Caught a glimpse of your “reality”
I felt a searing pain as it set fire to a blade that’s been lodged for so long I had forgotten it was there
“Real” people don’t do that
“Real” people live happily within their status quo
And it’s simply not possible step outside of that….

I hear a howl in the distance, no
Not in the distance, I feel it
Echoing from deep within my bones
Ready to be released

She is poised, stoic,
Eyes to the moon
You will not cage her.
She howls again and is now answered
The chorus of her kin, her pack
They knew who she was all along
They’ve been waiting
Turns out, she’s not a person after all



Sitting alone in my blind

The sun sets behind me.

I try to focus on the task at hand

My mind has other plans.

I think about my day.

The past, the present, and the future.

My struggles and how they weren’t in vain.

I’m growing.

Changing with the seasons.

Each painful memory an essential part of who I am.

Will I ever let go?

Can I ever move on?

Do I forget just enough to ease the pain?

Or do I remember enough to never let it happen again?

Reflections or hauntings

I can’t quite decide.

The past, the present, and the future

Does it matter?

There’s no place to hide.



Sitting in the wild

Weapon in hand.

Waiting silent and patient.

I hear the the birds chirping.

The wind blows all around

I see the grass swaying.

It doesn’t make a sound.

Then suddenly I see her.

Beauty grace and soul.

A doe has stepped before me

Unaware her time has come.

A sense of grief washes over me

Taking a life is never easy.

I thank her for her sacrifice

Deep breath


Pull the trigger.

Watch her fall.




Thank you Mother for this gift.

Thank you Dear friend for your life.

I am a Huntress.

I can provide.

I will survive. 

Rhea Faun finally saying hi!


I am a witch. I knew I was different at the tender age of 8. You can imagine what it was like being a witch in a Christian home. Not fun… at all. This isn’t about then, though. It’s about now.
There are so many titles when it comes to being a witch. Solitary, eclectic, green, black, white, kitchen, and the list goes on. I dislike using titles, but for the sake of this post I will. If I had to state what type of witch I am, it would be an eclectic solitary kitchen witch. I live in the kitchen. It is the one place magic happens effortlessly. Sick? I have a remedy. Upset stomach? I have one for that too. Bad day and need a pick me up? I got something to make you smile. Missing home? I’ll whip something up.
I also farm. The goal is to live farm to table like the good ol days. I grow fruits, vegetables, herbs, and flowers. This year has been rough, though. Between moving and a relentless deer population, my spring/summer garden was almost non existent. Some deer proofing and hunting are sure to fix it next go round. Chickens and turkeys make up the rest of the farm. They follow me around the yard looking for treats…. Even though they will eventually be my food, I want them to have their best life. Every living thing deserves a happy life no matter where they are on the food chain. Like I stated before, I hung. There is power in providing and there is comfort in knowing where your food comes from. Everything is processed by us for us. It’s almost primal instinct for me. The more I do things the old way, the closer to the Mother I feel. I actually in my deer blind writing this. It’s one of the few times I can truly be alone.
Alone time is few and far between. I believe that’s why my craft revolves around my kitchen. I have 3 young children who take up the majority of my time. AND I LOVE IT. Being a mother is the most incredible thing I could ever do. Creating life is magic within itself,but I couldn’t do it without a partner. My husband is my equal half. The magic we create together is like no other.
This introduction is a little all over the place, but so am I. Kitchen magic, herbal remedies, sacred yoni magic, crystals, earth spells, moon light secret whisperings, talking to spirits. I dabble in whatever feels right. I was never properly trained in my craft. Everything I do is intuitive. I started seeing spirits at a young age. At one point I couldn’t see anymore, but I could feel thier presence. Now I can do both, but it’s totally random. I have sneaking suspicion my oldest can too. So yeah, I’m uh Rhea Faun. Hope you enjoy Soul Sisters: Spells and Sage.


My every thought and action are carefully considered,

lest I draw any sort of attention to myself, because:

That’s just being a melodramatic

One never wants to give the impression of seeking attention,

Seeking Good Attention indicates arrogance,

Bad Attention- desperation

But there’s fixation on my situation and it leaves me unsettled,

I’m frozen, tiptoeing through my room at night

Don’t make a sound

Let everyone believe you’re asleep

Find me some bottles covered in candle wax, incense, and vanilla body spray

I could be fourteen again,

But I’m not and this is stupid.

Every sound seems amplified,

As I sneak and creep and hide,

lest I draw any sort of attention to myself, because:

That’s just being a melodramatic

They’re going to think you’re lying,

You’re best just not to speak,

Liar, manipulator, user, whore

Let the razors speak for you

They will believe you now,


Instead you’re told that

You’re not in pain, you’re contrived,

You’re being dramatic,

And you need to quit,

lest you draw any sort of attention to yourself because:

That’s just being melodramatic

Now, I am a shield for my children,

Their perfect little hearts and minds should not endure this and,

I’ve never truly been afraid that I wasn’t strong enough,

Until now.

I am a warrior, a protector, and a vindicator,

But I have been in battle for so damn long,

So, I’ve begun to duck and hide whenever possible,

lest I draw any sort of attention to myself because:

That’s just being melodramatic