A Wishing Spell by Kelly Jarvis
The moon need not be waxing.
It need not be the second Sunday of Spring,
Or quarter-past midnight on the Dark Sabbat,
But the magick will be most powerful
On the anniversary of your first breath,
That day when the sharp intake of cold and painful air
Set your mortal cries in motion.
A frosted cake (at least two layers), a candle, and a match.
Gather those you love around you.
Place the candle deep into the soft soil of the cake.
Strike the match. Light the wick. Chant a familiar tune.
Watch the flame flicker; watch shadows spill like liquid night.
Inhale--and in the pause
Between one breath and the next,
Summon your wish from the secret spaces of your soul.
Do not speak. Do not share your wish.
Words bring great danger and may result in ruin
(Like an unsightly sausage stuck to the tip of your nose).
Exhale—let your breath extinguish the flame.
Your silent wish will rise upward with the candle’s smoke,
An offering and a prayer.
Kelly Jarvis teaches classes in literature, writing, and fairy tale at Central Connecticut State University, The University of Connecticut, and Tunxis Community College. She lives, happily ever after, with her husband and three sons in a house filled with fairy tale books. She is also Enchanted Conversation’s special projects writer.
Cover Graphic: Amanda Bergloff @AMANDABERGLOFF
Cover Painting: "Scattering Stars" by Edwin Blashfield