Unaccustomed to joy
his kindness
barely torched
her cells still
under fierce attack
from too
many anti –bodies.
What registered was
quick – silver shining
a clasp so easily undone…
A golden sun
illuminated two
leaf strewn paths
gilded in bronze.
Welcomed by Hemlocks
at Mary’s House ,
she conjured
partridgeberry
a creeping vine
hugging
mossy granite boulders,
crimson berries on display.
He couldn’t know that
his act of
generosity
opened a floodgate
to hope.
Below, the river eyed
an orange clad hunter
stalking his prey
with outright suspicion.
The stars that night
repeated the story…
Orion pursues the Great Bear
on her Spiral Journey
until he slips beneath
the horizon
for another year.
In many ancient and some extant goddess traditions November is considered to be “the space in between”. In the Celtic tradition the old year comes to a close with All Hallows and the Feast of the Dead, a three day festival that ends with All Souls day on November 2nd. The new year doesn’t begin until winter solstice…
During this dark month a starry firmament wraps her cloak around us. This is a time to reflect and dream, to create intentions, to let go of what is no longer needed. It is a time to acknowledge and deal with rage and sorrow, limitations, aging, illness, the loss of family and friends – I could go on and on here. If we can lean into this month with an open yet wary heart new insights illuminate the night and this is my cyclic intention for this month. Not to get caught by extremes, or to act out dark feelings, but to own and take responsibility for them as best as I can.
November is a double-edged month. Hunters abound. Stars spiral around the night sky telling an ancient story of the hunter and his prey, perhaps highlighting that relationship between the two is part of ‘all there is’. The fact that humans project this story onto the stars suggests this pattern has persisted for millennia and involves all life, and all species, at least those on earth. I am so grateful to be learning to accept this cycle for what it is.
When I wrote this poem it was to honor the kindness of one man who literally created a gate through which I could pass in order to reach Mary’s House, my refuge. It wasn’t until afterwards that it occurred to me that this incident occurred during the first week of November just after All Soul’s day. Or that in more than one sense a gate had become permeable, and I had been invited to come and go at will … I want to stay awake to what is – embracing gratitude and grief in equal measure. I lean into the darkness with gratitude, believing my grief opens me to greater compassion for myself and for others, while taking deep pleasure in the low light and long shadows, crystal raindrops on bare trees, and the slow rise of the sun…
(Meet Mago Contributor) Sara Wright