A Witch’s Funeral

“All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players: They have their exits and their entrances,” so wrote Shakespeare. So true. Some people seem to be minor characters, or background noise for the rest of us. But a select few are so colorful, so bombastic, that we remember them. They command our attention. Shawn Poirier was one such character.

I first met Shawn in Salem, Massachusetts back in 2004. I was working on my book, Communicating With the Dead and I was speaking with him about Ouija boards and being psychic. I felt like I got him pretty early on. Each time I’ve seen Shawn, he was dressed head-to-toe in black–and he was usually wearing a cloak. His big frame and tall stature only added to this imposing figure. But he had a smile and charm that forced you to look past any hang-ups you may have about the way he dressed. I believe that was part of his point.

Shawn passed away on Sunday, March 18th in his sleep. He was 40 years old. Last night I attended his wake and funeral ritual. This was the first Witch funeral I’ve ever been to. The family specifically asked that we dress in black and wear our favorite pointy hat. I actually had a Witch’s hat in my Halloween box so I brought it along but wound up leaving it in the car.

Once inside a procession of black trickled in. I saw a few people I knew, and I offered my condolences. Around 7:30, with everyone seated and silent, the ritual began in front of the casket. Four Witches stood over a table on which sat a human skull, a bowl of water, and a few other items I couldn’t make out from where I was sitting. One Witch swept the area around them then another took a ceremonial knife and cast a circle. Then we chanted. Though the ritual part of a Witch funeral was foreign to me, everything else about it was familiar. Instead of some priest, minister, or rabbi going through the standard motions over a person they didn’t know that well (which I’ve witnessed plenty of times), there were four Witches, close friends of Shawn’s who gave every line and every motion deep meaning because they truly cared about this person.

At the non-Witch funerals I’ve attended, I sat patiently through the standard lines the clergy spoke until the eulogy–that’s the part that holds all the meaning because it’s usually given by someone who cared deeply for the departed. At this funeral, every part of the ceremony had meaning.

Instead of just reading from standard religious texts, the Witches also read from Shawn’s Book of Shadows–his Witch’s journal. Instead of hearing someone else’s words, we heard Shawn’s. It was one of the most touching funerals I’ve ever attended. Everyone in that room meant it. They wanted to be there, and their presence had purpose.

I had only known Shawn for a few years and I only saw him at a few events during that time but I can tell you that Shawn was the real deal. He believed what he preached to his very core and his conviction was impressive. The cat had style and charm–and he made an impact on me. So much so that I felt compelled to go pay my respects last night.

Merry meet, merry part, and merry meet again to you, Shawn Poirier, King of the Salem Witches.