Hermes! Hermes! Hermes! Listen, the people call to you!
O, great Hermes Psychopompos, conveyor of souls, Many lost ones will show up on the threshold tonight. Guide them gently to the shore of the River Styx and beyond. I offer this bag of coins for their passage. O, great Hermes Enodios, he who travels over the lands Many souls are wandering, unsure of the road they travel. Watch over their journey as they cross the last boundaries. I offer this grain for their last pilgrimage. O, scheming Hermes Dolios, charming trickster of the night, The souls in your care found death in violence unsuspecting. Help them escape from the pain of their last moments. I offer this honey to sweeten their memories. O, divine Hermes Diaktoros, translator between gods and men, Heavy are the hearts that mourn today’s loss. Whisper sweet words to cleanse their wounded hearts. I offer this wine to ease their pain. Hermes! Hermes! Hermes! Listen, this person calls to you! I pour out the wine in your honor. I pour out the oil in your honor. I pour out the milk and honey in your honor. Hermes! Hermes! Hermes! Do not let the lost souls wander forever in the wild darkness. Take them safely to rest in the Realms of the Dead. Written April 16, 2007
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Lugh dies
and the sun strikes with rays of heat that oppress in revenge, with spears of light that burn our eyes and skin. First fruits Red blood August comes and the earth gasps in the death throes of summer, a fever pitched battle against the coming dark. Barlycorn Eat and run. Written in August 2006 Penetrate me, Kali
Move through my every pore Consume me in thy fire Until I am no more. Melt down my skins of iron That shield me from my wounds Break my bones of falsehoods That would support me to my ruin. Break my chains of reason That tie me to my pain Kick out the excuses from under me That I lean on for a cane. Leave me empty, Kali A vessel to be filled Leave me broken and battered A body to be healed Then come again, Kali Move through my every pore Mold me in thy likeness Fuse strength into my core Teach me ways of healing My people’s broken souls Teach me ways of freedom Courage to walk through man’s hot coals. Destroying for creating Transforming old to new Kali Ma, Dark Mother I live my life for you. Written July 1989, when I was 18. What was I thinking? I carry in my mind a picture postcard of the day you left,
Sepia-toned, faded, and worn around the edges, Where my eternally seven-year-old chubby fingers stroke, In devotion– A pilgrim to an ancient shrine where, Saints cry blood and the wicked Are forgetful–missing and ever present. Truth, lie, or heretical imagining, This is my story, This is my psalm to you– Dead and gone from the world; Living and ever leaving from my heart. Written December 2009 Living one night as if in a Peter Greenaway film–
Verdant, succulent, wholely inappropriate, wild, untamed, unrestrained, gold, glittering, moistly dripping, rash, foolish, mad… Dionysos, make me no promises we both know you won’t keep. Just sweep me into your arms, Into your manic joy, and Spin me around like the dizzying, dancing, divinely laughing inspired stars. Ah, Dionysos, tell me no lies, but inspire me; Inspire me. A growing tumor in her brain
breaks down the walls between life and death between form and force between here and gone As she falls down the well into the unknown Sentences stumbled over and left unfinished leaving her without speech leaving her without context leaving her without a name As she walks through the gates into the unknown Her body must be broken before she can leave us behind to rip our clothes in grief to scream in rage and terror to hold each other in love As she climbs the tree into the unknown …into the arms of her lost beloved Written 2009 Last night I was in a fury.
I woke up at 2:17am And could not go back to sleep. I was still angry From earlier in the evening When my take-out meal Which was supposed to save me time Made me late For a meeting I didn’t really want to go to In the first place. Fuming in the darkness Because my husband’s hand Was touching mine Seeking contact, Because his shoulder Was crowding mine Seeking space, Because the dog Was snuggled between my legs Seeking warmth, And the kitten Lay on my chest Seeking comfort. Just get the fuck off of me! Just everybody STOP TOUCHING ME! Stop needing things from me! This morning I was in a rage. I had not slept well. I had an ice pick Lodged in my skull And a vice Clamped on my shoulder. Oh, and it was raining. At the front door to my office Stood a wet young man Looking up at the sky In sorrow. I guess that my notice of him Invited a response. “I’ve been inside all week In a conference Looking out at the sun, And the one day I have to Explore the city It rains,” he said With a foreign accent And one of those grimaces That says I-am-not-all-that-upset. “Do you have an umbrella?” I asked. He shook his head And so I handed him mine. “Really? Thank you!” he said In wonderment and joy. As I walked through the door And past the security guard, I felt tears on my face Of release and relief. Now, I’m just tired but feel a little freer. Written March 10, 2011 What is magic?
The young child asks. Imagine, if you will, a scintillating light wandering through all time and space, linking my heart to you heart, to the heart of our cat, to the heart of the pine tree, to the heart of a virus, to the heart of the homeless man across the street, to the heart of the earth, to the heart of the sun, to the heart of the universe, connecting all of us into a great family with no beginning and no end. Do you see it? The child scans the park with eyes gone wild. Yes! That, my friend, is magic. Written May 15, 2011 O holy Brighid of the Eternal Flame
You who inspire the hearts and minds of the poets, warriors, and healers, You of the flaming hair and starry cloak, We honor you and give you thanks. You breathe the words that evoke beauty, honorable deeds, and commitment. Your spirit incites us to do great things beyond what we think we are capable of. You lay your hands upon us and heal our hearts, bodies, minds, and spirits. O holy Brighid of the Burning Forge, Temper us in the heat and pressure of life, That we may be strong and steady. O holy Brighid of the Sacred Well, Quench the thirst of our bodies and souls, That we may be compassionate and true. O holy Brighid, today we call to you Inspire us. Temper us. Strengthen us. Heal us. Work through our hands and speak through our mouths, That we may make this world a better place, That we may live in freedom and fullness. Blessed be. Written November 15, 2011 |