[Intro — whispered over a low drone, fingertip tapping the rim of a glass] Salt on the table. Moon at the door. Three little offerings laid on the floor. One for the leaving. One for the blessed. One for the woman who chooses the rest. [A match strikes. Silence.] I. THE RELEASE [Verse 1 — low, intimate] I brought all the contracts I never quite signed, written in somebody else’s handwriting, filed in the back of my mind. Be useful, be lovely, be easy to keep. Give them your waking, they’ll let you have sleep. I laid them in circles, I counted them twice. Funny how often obedience had passed itself off as nice. [Pre-Chorus — a second, quieter melody rises beneath the voice] I can love what I leave. I can leave what I love. I can open my hands without calling it giving up. [Chorus — hypnotic, increasingly rhythmic] Ash to ash, thread to thread, I return what was never mine to mend. Bone to bone, flame to flame, I call my scattered pieces by name. No more bargains in the dark. No more renting out my heart. Let the old agreement end. I am not the offering. I am the hand. [Instrumental — frame drum, rattling seeds, bowed strings] II. THE GRATITUDE [Verse 2 — warm, almost affectionate] A toast to the lovers, the beautiful fools, the rooms full of velvet, the breaking of rules. The highways, the laughter, the silk on my skin, the nights I was certain I’d never come down again. I’ll keep every pleasure. I’ll keep what was true. I’ll leave all the damage where damage is due. [Pre-Chorus — tender, with a mischievous smile] No need for a villain. No need for a saint. I can treasure the picture without climbing back into the frame. [Chorus — more expansive] Gold to gold, breath to breath, I thank every life that I’ve already lived. Skin to skin, name to name, I take back the joy without taking the pain. I was wild. I was kind. I was lost inside my own design. But nothing beautiful was wasted. And nothing harmful must remain. [Bridge — whispered, almost laughing] Oh, I loved being spoiled. Oh, I loved being wanted. Oh, I loved the delicious and beautifully haunted. But a gift is not a leash. And desire is not a debt. I can thank you for the feast without returning to the net. [One deep drumbeat. Silence.] III. THE INVOCATION [Verse 3 — a confident walking rhythm begins] Now bring me a table with room for my friends. Bring me the means to begin what I intend. A house with a doorway that opens both ways. A ledger of earnings. A calendar of play. Let my hands make the offering. Let my name pay the bill. Let the things I create make a living for me still. [Pre-Chorus — rising, incantatory] I can kneel when I choose. I can stand when I please. I can welcome the pleasure without handing over the keys. [Final Chorus — full percussion, bright metallic bells] Gold to gold, flame to flame, I am the witch who kept her name. Door to door, key to key, what I build belongs to me. Let them love me. Let them see. Let them come with honesty. I can give without going empty. I can take without the shame. I am not the offering. I am the hand. [Breakdown — percussion stops; voice alone] I do not summon a rescuer. I do not bargain for a throne. I do not ask permission to inhabit what I own. I have wanted. I have waited. I have watched the candles burn. Now the spell is in the choosing. [Pause] And I choose. [Final refrain — slowly, almost a lullaby] Ash to ash. Gold to gold. Some things leave. Some things I hold. Moon above. Earth below. The body knows. The body knows. [Outro — spoken softly as the drone fades] The circle is open. The debt is not mine. The door is unlocked. And the hand on the handle… is mine.
