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Pagan Poetry 1997

Where the Black Oaks Move

Here where the Black Oaks move,
Wading through the rich damp loam
Roots shuffling under moldered leaves
The magic brews in a strong dark draught
Swirled in a cauldron of storm.
Here where the branch-borne whispers
Carry a vision of power,
Dreams between dark twining roots
Linger and grow strong.
Here where the promise of peat
Rolls like slow thunder,
The pounding of the forest's pulse
Drums a heartbeat through the soil.
Feel the passion of the earth, dare
To walk foot-naked on this holy ground.
Cast off clothes and wear the wind,
No shield between yourself
And what you seek.
Set down sword and sharpened steel
Tithes and titles
Duties, claims, uncertainties
Leave all behind
Save the Call that draws you on.
Here where the Black Oaks move,
Dwell the Gods and Goddesses of old.

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Invocation to a Green-Eyed Goddess

O Bast,
You were never a tame Goddess --
If the scholars have forgotten that,
We have not,
Nor ever will.
We remember Your roar
On glorious mornings;
We recall Your festivals
Bright with flowers and fun.
We play sweet music
To amuse Your ears;
We dance, and pray for feline grace.
In heat You teach us
The power of passion, the lure of release.
If the tiny lions in our lives
Deign to let us pet them,
We do not forget their claws;
Neither would we demand of You,
But only ask:
Bless us, Bast.
We honor the Wild in You.

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Rouse the Sleeping Lions

Under the soft sand
Of the Two Lands
They slumbered
For hundreds of years --
Now we remember,
And They awake.

Rise up, Sekhmet,
Lion-browed Goddess!
Shake out Your red mane,
O Person of Gold!
Your face is a shield against all fury,
Your ferocity unmatched even now.
Your tawny glory blinds us with brilliance.
Rise up,
For people sing Your praises once again.

Rise up, Bastet,
Graceful Cat-Goddess!
Stretch Your sleek form
And stun us with Your beauty.
The world resounds with Your purrs,
Your roars, the multiple wonders
Of Your voice.
Rise up;
The bells we wear whisper adulation to You.

Stir up the sleeping lionesses of life and death;
Let them leap and breathe in each of us,
Ever-present yet
Above and beyond
All we could ever hope to become.
Only a coward lets sleeping lions lie:
Sekhmet and Bastet, we hail You now!

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Gifts of the Great Mother

In Her infinite wisdom,
The Great Mother gives to Her children
Many senses with which to relate to the world:

Sight for the Element of Fire
Hearing for the Element of Air
Touch for the Element of Earth
Taste and smell for the Element of Water

And for each of these we give thanks
And in each of these we rejoice

But for the Element of Spirit
She pours forth all the bounty of Her basket,
Granting gifts we can barely measure with a name:

The knowing that is feeling
The sharing of thoughts without speech
The glimpse of things to come
The direct perception of essence and energy
The unfolding of an object's past

And also analogs of the physical senses in nonphysical realms:
The ability to see and hear discorporeal beings
The ability to taste and smell the undetectable
The ability to walk in other worlds

All of these She lays before us
Like precious packages around the Yule Tree at Midwinter
And it would be terribly rude
To leave half of them unopened.

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Message from the Edge

Vision beyond sight
Hearing beyond sound
Perception beyond presence

These and others kept our ancestors safe
While we learned to tame the world

Remember these echoes from the past,
From the edges of perception,
Selected by evolution for the subtle advantage
They bestowed upon the begotten.

Honor your instincts,
For without them,
You would never have been born.

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A Prayer for Perceptions

Hecate, Three-Faced Goddess,
Set loose your hungry hounds on the flocks of doubt:
Teach us the diviner's art and skill
That we may know what deeds are about.

Carridwen, Black Cauldron Goddess,
We look to You as our guide:
Open the Gate between this world and the next
Show us safely through where shadows ride.

Hera, Great Queen of Heaven,
Lift up Your rod of might:
Grant us the knowledge of prophecy
As is our ancient right.

Pasiphae, Lady of Dreams,
We seek answers in the shifting shades:
Give us the wisdom of the oracles
To find the truth that through the imagery wades.

Selene, Goddess of the Silver Moon,
We beseech you for visions and insight:
Light our way with Your argent orb
As we walk between the worlds tonight.

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The URL for this page is http://www.worthlink.net/~ysabet/spirit/paganpoe_1997.html and it was last updated on October 13, 1998.