Octavia E. Butler (June 22nd, 1947—February 24th, 2006) was, amongst the fielded midst of misty, wild-flowering words, a poetess, science-fiction lioness of letters, and — simply, succinctly — African-American woman. Herbswoman; hearty craftswoman; witchy, wierding woman.
Octavia E. Butler is sorely missed; and, as humanity vaults along and down the downward wens of deicide, ecocide, and, ultimately, unuterrably suicidal humanicide, is sorely needed, still. Still, we have the haven’s fen of funneled words, starry wit, and witness to realities, around, she soundly left us. And though bereft of her continued poise, her puissant words remain to us — ringing true, faultless, and lascivious-real.