Showing posts with label Pagan poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pagan poetry. Show all posts

Sunday, December 9, 2012

Swallowed Keys

(Image from here - click to enlarge)

Swallowed Keys

We locked up our wisdom into our bones
And swallowed the keys
They sank in our rivers of blood
And we forgot the maps

Because we had to forget the mysteries
To keep them safe.
We wove our hair into brooms
And swept over our paths
And then burned the earth with our rage
We didn't teach our children
It was the only way to protect them,
we thought
But in them we planted seeds, seeds and keys
And told them stories and riddles and songs
With no roots, just tangled threads
That would take years to unwind
Just enough time
For the rains to fall again
and put out the fires
For the dams to break
For the rivers to flood
For the paths
to be walked again
For the soil to breathe
And as the old bones crumble
Deep beneath the rubble
We find we've always had the keys
Our stories and our maps
Our paths are revealed to some
And the seeds grow again
The threads are unspun
And woven again.


Amara Bronwyn, Hollow Bones, 2009 
Found here.



Notes about image found here

A Bulgarian vrachka (medicine woman) gives a herbal decoction to a sick person in a propagandistic mural at Rila cathedral. The painter depicted devils pooping into the medicine, in an attempt to convince the people that their healers worked with demonic powers.

This is one of several polemical 18th century murals in Bulgarian and Macedonian churches and monasteries that targeted women folk healers. It follows the Christian European convention of portraying devils as black.

Although these murals reflect the clergy's persecution of female healers, the Orthodox Church in the Balkans did not commit witch-burnings. What is striking about their campaign is how recent it is, showing that this female sphere of power persisted into modern times.

Full view of the mural panel, showing sick people coming long distances by wagon and horseback to be treated by the vrachka. This title means literally "female doctor," but it was understood that such folk healers used incantations and rituals as well as herbal medicine to cure people. They were also described as baiatchki, "charmers.



Wednesday, October 31, 2012

La Calaca a Day - #31

(Image found here)

Samhain

In the season leaves should love,
since it gives them leave to move
through the wind, towards the ground
they were watching while they hung,
legend says there is a seam
stitching darkness like a name.


Now when dying grasses veil
earth from the sky in one last pale
wave, as autumn dies to bring
winter back, and then the spring,
we who die ourselves can peel
back another kind of veil


that hangs among us like thick smoke.
Tonight at last I feel it shake.
I feel the nights stretching away
thousands long behind the days
till they reach the darkness where
all of me is ancestor.


I move my hand and feel a touch
move with me, and when I brush
my own mind across another,
I am with my mother's mother.
Sure as footsteps in my waiting
self, I find her, and she brings


arms that carry answers for me,
intimate, a waiting bounty.
"Carry me." She leaves this trail
through a shudder of the veil,
and leaves, like amber where she stays,
a gift for her perpetual gaze.

Annie Finch, "Samhain" from Eve, published by Carnegie Mellon University Press. 
Copyright © 1997 by Annie Finch.  

Samhain blessings to you and yours.....

Friday, October 5, 2012

Wisdom must be imparted



Taught

Mother taught me many a thing
Though her children now have started
To show me what she could not
For wisdom must be imparted
The swallow taught me how to sing
The squirrel taught me how to save
The beaver showed me how to build
The skunk taught me how to bathe
The dove, she taught me modesty
The peacock taught me to be proud
The mouse, he taught me silence
The thunder to be loud
The turtle taught me patience
The falcon taught me speed
The only thing the weasel said
Was doing dirty deeds
The eagle made me keen of sight
The coyote made me hear
The wolf taught camaraderie
And strength was by the bear
The fox told me of cheating death
The rattlesnake how to make it
The fly spoke of accepting it
The opossum how to fake it
The cougar taught me courage
The dolphin taught me play
The raccoon taught me thievery
The mantis how to pray
The deer taught me how to dance
The rabbit how to flee
The trees murmured of times long past
And the river spoke of the sea
The grasses whispered of being trimmed
And the flowers spoke of rain
But I taught myself that every spring
The cycle begins again


Monday, October 1, 2012

Catechism for a Witch's Child




Catechism for a Witch's Child


When they ask to see your gods
your book of prayers
show them lines
drawn delicately with veins
on the underside of a bird's wing
tell them you believe 
in giant sycamores mottled
and stark against a winter's sky
and in nights so frozen
stars crack open spilling
streams of molten ice to earth
and tell them how you drink
a holy wine of honeysuckle
on a warm spring day
and of the softness
of your mother who never taught you
death was life's reward
but who believed in the earth
and the sun
and a million, million light years
of being


1986