Thursday, May 23, 2013

The Gathering in Prose

The first warm hug, girlish squeals of delight
The roly-poly bus rides filled with chatter
Tea and tomes of magic and history
Sleep
Window shopping for silks, chapeaus, and finer things
Charcuterie, cheese, bread and olives; picnic on the wharf
Naughty paper mache, and sips of sweet liqueur
Sleep
Packing and singing and dishes-washing, pub food and Victory Over The Claw,
Driving, arriving, unpacking, preparing
He's HERE! More and more faces appear,
Hugs and laughter and giddy delight.

Chanting for Aphrodite and her roses,
Fetch water from the lake to keep them from thirst,
Music flows out through the Lodge's open doors.

Then:
We call the First Ancestor,
Grandfather Fire,
Inviting him into our sacred space.
Offerings to the land, to the spirits, to the gods.
Bask in the glow of our Grandfather's face.

Lovely ladies, dazzling conversation,
But this is only the beginning, and I must
Sleep.

No breakfast-- boo!
Irish coffee and listening to birds
Sitting amongst the stumps and axes
Eating such tender steak off the grill
Red juice running down my arms
Lick it up wickedly.
Hold the axe for the sharp split and crack! 
Wandering and dreaming, henna by the fire.
Bows and arrows, axes flying
Thoing, whirrrrr, shhunk, thunkk
Aim true, aim steady.

Time for the rite--
I gather boughs of Cedar,
Step into hot water and steam.
Sweeping the boughs across my body,
Feeling their softness under my feet.
Cleansing body and purifying spirit,
Asking for strength and transformation.
Fingers and brushes smear ochre and woad
Lift up the Horse, lift up the Bull, 
With reverence, carry them down to the fire,
Call upon Macha
Call upon Dagda
Primal calling as of old
Feeling the power coursing through,
Desire and courage and ageless wisdom
Bodies whirling 'round the flames until
The fire swallows the sword driven into its heart.
Gasping for breath, return to the body.
Run to the lake! To the docks! Deep breath...
Plunge! Into the dark deep water,
Washing of bodies and spirits.

Night is coming
Time for a change,
Black satin and feathers,
Red lipstick
Fortunes told and treasures revealed
Mischievous spirits
Sensual dancing
See the wares spread upon blankets on wood
Gems and trinkets, skulls and bones,
Never alone, never alone.
Exhaustion, furs and delicious sleep.

Morning!
More meat on the grill.
Watch the crows circle,
Listen to the noises of Sunlight and Fern,
Of Stone and Moss and Cedar.
Bury the bones, may they return to the Earth
Giving thanks to the spirit of the swine for its flesh

Gathering with the Priestesses
Discussing the mysteries,
Preparing for the day as it waxes
Time for lunch, we gather round the fire.
Munch munch, crunch crunch.
Watching the men as they train for the spear:
Power and might, muscle in sunlight.
Take up the bow, feet are flying,
Cannot slow them, they must be free
To pound the earth, to carry me swiftly.
A few arrows later, time to prepare:
Bring out the war paints in red and gold.
Circling with the women of today and of yore,
Communing with the Great Queens, we seek their wisdom,
We find our weapons, hidden deep within
Wield them in dance, feel their power, feel our power
Looking upon faces of Queens and Sisters, Mothers and Daughters,
Send the love and grace of our conjuring
Out to the far corners of the world,
May all women find and accept their sovereignty.

Their Majesties sitting shoulder to shoulder,
Looking down toward their counterparts,
The men gathered in kinship around the sacred fire.
Chants form upon our lips,
Rise in the evening air,
Float down toward those rugged forms,
Louder and louder,
The love-cry of ages,
We rise as one and move toward them,
We are beauty and we are darkness.
We are light and we are change.
Face to face we meet them,
And rush to greet them with kisses,
Holding our kin close,
Sending sparks of love to the sky.

I am pulled away from the fire--
Time for music- guitars, drums, voices, and fiddle.
Tasting the meat of the sacred beast
Who has carried us through the eons
With whom we are bound,
We give thanks.
Return to the circle, return to the flames,
Let the strings sing to the beat of the drum
Bodies twisting and turning in firelight
Pile the wood higher, the heat rises.
Sweat and smoke perfume the air
Gasping with laughter, we dance
UHHHHhhhh...
The beating of feet and drums finally stops.
Smiling faces sparkle in the night
I hear Sasamat beckoning,
Slip away from the fire,
Traipsing down along the shore
Over the bridge, past the babbling brook
Through the sand,
Letting my garments fall one by one
Leaving a trail to return by.
Until, standing on the rough wood planks,
I gaze upon stars and lapping waves,
All is calm, all is stillness, except for the call of Sasamat
Slipping into the star-filled waters,
Down, down into the depth of universes unknown.
Kicking back up toward air, and life,
Emerge into the warmth of night,
Sit on the dock, clasp arms 'round my knees,
Tilting my head backward I gaze up to the heavens
Feeling the oneness, reveling in existence,
Finally ready, I return to the fire,
Collecting my clothing as I go.
I stand in the warmth, let the fire dry my skin.
Return to the roundhouse for woolen cloak.
I meet another with struggle in her heart
And we whisper the hours away in the darkness,
We speak of love, of fortune,
Of the twisted path we take through this our mortal life.
Hugs, and goodnight...
But the frogs are singing
I follow their voices to the edge of the marsh
And sitting, I listen.
Listening, I wait for answers,
When they come, bringing peace to my mind,
I smile as I slip into bed.

Sleep.

Groggy, I open my eyes to the light of morn,
I smell something close to heaven,
Dash for the kitchens-- please, please, my stomach growls..
I make it in time for a plate of delight:
Bacon. (Oh, and potatoes and eggs) And bacon.
Mmmm... I feed the Bear some of my share
And the Wolf and the Shaman,
I cannot see them go without.
The Bear is pleased with the snack.
He playfully tosses pillows at the Witch in her bunk.
Then all of us join,
Bedclothes fly
An array of pillows and blankets and such
Ah, the laughter! The giddy delight!
I pounce upon the fair Witch in his pile
Groaning and laughing he shoves me away,
I retreat, not wanting curses thrown my way.
So, grinning, we all greet the morning.
Our kin are scurrying to and fro,
Packing and sweeping, all will be fresh for the morrow.
We gather in the sunlight,
And chatter surrounds,
I soak up the happiness and banish my despair
At knowing the time for goodbyes is near.

And then we circle, and I gaze on the faces
New friends and old, all the kin that I share.
Thank the gods for their presence
The spirits for their gifts
The land for its bounty.
Now, it is done.
Petals floating on the waters of Sasamat,
We bid farewell to the Goddess of Love.

We give to the place our sacrifice:
The sword which succumbed to the flames,
Now twisted metal,
It can be wielded no longer
Except within every heart that beats there.
We offer it with humility and gratitude,
Then turn our thoughts toward saying farewell.
I hold each wonderful person in turn,
Binding our friendship 'till we meet again.
And as the group thins and dwindles,
I sit upon the Great Gray Stone,
Trying not to shed a tear,
Thinking instead of beauty and grace.

The eagle mounts the thermals
I send my prayers upward,
He will carry them skyward upon his wings.