Mór

The Morrígna over me by day,

Bedb

In the guise of the crow.

You will tell me what to say,

Reveal what I should know.
The Morrígna over me at night,

Macha

On the wings of the owl.

You will show me second sight,

The path of right action now.
The Morrígna over me with power

An Mór Righan

Terrible, raven-black and glistening.

From Whom wisdom? Now Her

Voice speaks; who cannot be listening?

hawthorne

 

 

Judith O’Grady

judithis an elderly Druid (Elders are trees, neh?) living on a tiny urban farm in Ottawa, Canada. She speaks respectfully to the Spirits, shares her home and environs with insects and animals, and fervently preaches un-grassing yards and repurposing trash (aka ‘found-object art’).