Blood and Songs

Sister, draw you down the Moon. Stand naked before her. Be not afraid, but stand fierce in your glory.

Let her fill your veins, bless you with grace and bathe you in mysteries. Let her rule your tides and drink in all your sins. Offer her your blood and songs and she will be your mirror; she will show yourself to you.

She waits for your invitation. She longs for your invocation. So draw you down the Moon and she’ll begin your transformation.

She remembers the burning times; how she wept at the sight. How she cursed the ignorance of the Sun. She remembers you, then. It is why she waits for you still, waits silently for your offerings. She loves you in your wholeness, in your strength and your weakness, as only a mother knows how. In her fullness, she whispers poetry in your ear so that you might hear the call. In her darkness she hides, sprinkling stardust in her wake so that you might find her. 

So go you to the wild and lonely places, and draw her down. Feel the spirit of Hekate and all us weird sisters as you scream and cry and sing into the darkness. Ride the night with wild abandon; demand your pleasure, take your fill- for you Are, woman, and you bring life into this earthly plane, and you Are, more powerful than you know. Stare into that mirror Moon and know yourself, as Goddess and Witch, Maiden, Mother and Crone. 

Stand fierce in your glory. Make your offerings of songs and blood and roses. Know that I am with you.

Never again shall we burn in the fires of that ignorant Sun, but bask forevermore in the wild and lonely places; naked and proud and beautiful in the light of our Mother Moon.


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