The Power of Grief

It happens
every now and then
just four words

My sister is dead

Grief comes with a
great sucking sound
a black hole that pulls
on all that I have held dear
on all that I have lost

It hungers for
the stars of love
and memory,
encroaches upon their light

But oh, my sweet
darkness you are the light
Do not hunger for
there can not be emptiness
where such power is born.



A Spell for those who feel Adrift

When the seed falls from the tree, it appears
to spin wildly, to float lazily
It is doing exactly what it is meant to do
On its way to meet the earth
and take root.

The seed creates a vortex,
held aloft by its own design
it’s own power.

It’s fall is a magical act
It’s descent a journey, blessed
Ancestor to ancestor.

DNA of Maple Seed Flight


Shared as it was inspired in me, and with the awareness that as “seeds” those of us of European descent in America are rooting into colonized land.

Invocation to Grieving Hearts

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?

Do you feel the resistance, like a rip tide?


Hymn to Kali



O Maa
Dancing through our hearts
Shattering our illusions

You, Creator and Destroyer
All encompassing Time
Nothing escapes the wisdom of your blade

Sever us from our demons
Teach us to drink deep
of the ecstasy of life

O Maa
Praise be to you,
Most Fierce and Loving One.

Jai Kali Maa!

Poem and Photo by Syren Nagakyrie


It feels like pooled velvet
the grains so fine,
they seem to disappear as I grasp them.

They defy their mass
This, your Mass
my Sacred Rite

Kali of the cremation grounds, whose ashes heralded Her coming
Your blessing of a sharp blade and fierce love

Is this your boon received?

The color of it surprises me
For a moment
it is only the sand of a beach
and then a chip of bone sifts to the surface
Maybe, it is only a shell.

The wind shifts, a wave splashes
Ash kisses my face.

Sure as had been Her blade,
the moment strikes upon me
an initiation greater than any.

Love and grief and soul align
dissolving into one,
as ash dissolves into the sea.

Say Her Name

At a loss for words
the pen trembles the point
carving lines of vacant thought on paper.

Vacant like the eyes in the faces I see
Names carved on paper

Say her name –
It rises from the tongue on wings
With a scream,
Beating against what condemned her

Air is pushed from the room
And the abyss rushes in
Claiming the eyes, the faces, the names
Until everything is eyes and faces and names

The room trembles with truth
And the walls shudder with grief

An earthquake of voices
Magnitudes too great to withhold
Justice has come.