(by B.B. Blank)
After pulling the seeds from the gourd
roasted and consumed
carved into patterns, sigils, glyphs
blazed with light from an inner source
the Spell is Cast out into the World:
“Speak to me, Most ancient of Days –
Carry me aloft, you crumbling Crone
For I fear not Death – but a Life of Lies
Stitched together by men in boardrooms
Animated by greedy intolerance and smug assurances
Blood-bound by apathy and social media isolation
ignoring What Grows just outside the door
Those who have Passed, pause.
Now They speak
through remembrances and stories
Visions. Dreams. Shadows caught in the eye’s blink.
Those who have Passed, now gently peal back the Veil
Lifted by Love, inviting you to stare into the Cauldron
the blackened boil of Creation Herself
and the whispered shapes that arise past the limits
intoning you to return to purpose, to cause and effect:
To keep Silent
It is You who have now Passed, You who stares out into the Night
You who pushes up the concrete, rots the steel
You who Walks Between the Worlds
lifting Veils, laying Seeds
For the Harvests to come.
B. B. Blank is a Reclaiming Witch and Rainbow Family hippie who has been active in pagan politics and community activism since 1983. He currently serves as Elder Caretaker for Ma’at’s Temple of south central Kansas, an open circle pagan community located in Wichita, Kansas.