Poetry

Khaire Hekate! Mother, I bring You a poem as a gift. Poetry is a love I made the mistake of letting other people's opinions take from me. Thankfully, I can reclaim it. For months now, the number of poems I have written and am writing continues to grow. 

Past,

Present, Future

all meet here.

Neither this, nor that.

Between.

Liminal

space where

time sheds meaning.

Vulnerability is strength. Embrace

yourself.

No

echoes of

the sun. No

illusions of light dancing

here.

Raw

power in

this darkness. Ancient,

naked, honest, and

inconquerable.

Pour

oil, water,

wine. Lay out

garlic, eggs, bread, cheese.

Feast.

Whisper

your secrets.

Truth is prayer.

Trust the path you

choose.

I hesitate to think of my writing as worthy of being called a hymn, but it is. It is a poem written in praise of an Immortal One. As important as it is to be humble, it should only be in healthy ways. I need to work on truly learning that. If my work was not worthy, there would be no reason to offer it to You. Thank You for guiding me in this, Mother.