Some say I am a witch, a comforting thought.
‘My other car is a broom’.
But that means I am free to fly into the night,
to laugh like nothing else matters, to let go of the wheel
because the broom will take me outside the box.
My mother was the first one – she let go of me, cut off
all my roots so that I flew for dear life. Now, instead
of two wings, I have two wings times three.
© Ella Wagemakers, 07.59 Dutch time (= 1.59 EST in the US)