A valentine poem for you, for the earth. Perhaps especially for those who are in solitude this Valentine’s Day. Jai Maa ❤
Here the earth curves in welcome
meeting my back with the sure comfort
of a wizened love.
I lean into the embrace,
inclined to believe
this is meant to be.
I rest against stones in their fullness, round
rising from the ground
warmth penetrating my cold, jagged edges
as I sink into the flow
that caressed their shape
Here so held solitude
My awareness slides
into the ever flowing river
surely as the salmon
in rushing depths.
This as simple and precious as breath
Here a truth:
You are not loved.
You are love.
You are not on this earth.
You are of this earth.
You can not be separate from who you are
and even the strongest of forms
will change with the flow of time.
Bow to the wood pile
Flesh of this great earth,
Home to many:
you have carried water in your cells,
your breath allowing me to breathe
now your body offers me warmth
Gratitude to you for this offering.
Bow to the wood pile
I carry your bones in my arms
One, two, a bundle cradled
hand supporting the edge against my breast.
Bow to the fire
wood, hollow against stone,
chiming this altar to life
Bone to flesh
flesh to spark
spark to flame
of this one brightness.
Water hisses, rising from flesh
as smoke, greets the space
Is it returning to its source?
I step beyond these walls
Smoke escapes, the night
Rising toward the stars
water into the darkness.
A prayer I wrote to Hekate in 2009, which has popped up again through social media so I am sharing it with you here.
My relationship with Hekate has shifted in recent years, as relationships tend to do. She was my first – the first deity that I felt a true kinship with, the first deity that I made a dedication to. I joke that we are old friends, content in our relationship, sometimes not speaking for lengths of time but knowing the other is always present.
This is partially a result of growth in my practice, as contradictory as some people may find that. As my polytheism grows in complexity and nuance, and as my work in Tantra and my relationship with Kali Maa deepens, duality starts to blur and the lines between “hard” and “soft” no longer seem as fixed.
Hekate Soteira, the World Soul, is the one who truly started me down the path I am on, or perhaps She is the one I first recognized as calling to me in recognition of my path. As such our connection will never be taken for granted. Io Hekate!
Soul of the World
You who were created from darkness,
born from the womb of nothingness
Hekate, Mostly Lovely One,
to You I pray.
Guardian of Crossroads
You who sees what came before, what is, and what lies ahead
Propolos, guide me on my path.
Keeper of the Keys
Protectress of the ancient wisdom
I pray to thee, as your daughter
Most Magnificent Goddess
Phosporous One, bare your torch for me.
Through you, I face my fears
Guiding me into ever greater depths,
until you stand with me at the final mystery.
It is in honor of you that I pray.
written by Syren Nagakyrie
Please do not share or reproduce without credit
May the waves of our grief
and the fires of our open hearts
rise and flow to remind us all
of the power that we contain.
Our bones are made of mountains
Our tears made of stars
With the contraction and expansion of every heart beat
Our bodies call to the grief and ecstasy of life
May we remember
in honor of all those who are forgotten
May we remember
in honor of the blood in the soil
and the beings that have been lost.
I actually wrote that over a week ago, before I really heard about the murder of Alton Sterling, followed by the murder of Philando Castile, and a number of other deaths of POC in the last few days that happen everyday.
It came after a night of devotion to Kali. It came after having another layer of maya ripped from my sight. I’ve been struggling to reorient myself since then, and have realized that nothing has felt stable in longer than I can remember.
Three weeks ago I wrote “I don’t know what’s next. We’ll see what the coming weeks and months bring, even if I am afraid to look.”
I keep diving into the current, hoping to pull out something profound and meaningful, something that will inspire to empowerment and action. But I gotta be honest: right now I’m not finding anything other than the ominous. And as I watch the protests surge across the country, fear and grief flowing through the people, I can’t help but feel that this is not the end.
Are you feeling it too? That sense of something being ripped open, of something below the surface that feels too dark, too deep?