Thursday, 29 November 2012

She of the Gleaming Edge

Glory to Morrigan
Eidolon sovereign
of blooded battlefields

Rich soil, soaked through. 
Everything grows where death walked. 

Queen of the Cycle
Rebirthing yourself anew

Year after year
day after day
my devotion grows
out of blood-soaked clay

Shall I offer whiskey,
that you may sleep and leave the world in peace?

I think I shall offer coffee
That you may have the energy
to do what needs to be done

Shining edge, gleaming steel
cuts away what doesn't belong
It's finished now
It's done.

Friday, 23 November 2012

A Prayer for Daily Devotion

I wrote this the other day. The style is based off a prayer to Brighid that was written by a member of the forum I frequent. 

Sacred blood, holy land
My Queen, I heed Your command
Bless my hands, my mind, my feet
Give me courage to stay; let me know when to retreat

Thursday, 12 July 2012

Bone-weary melting-soft

I fall into puddles that cannot contain me.

Her work is betimes perplexing as it is fulfilling; tiring as it is enervating.

Sometimes I wonder what in heaven's name I am doing. My fingers are worked to the bone; I could sleep for a thousand years.

But it will always be worth it.

Tuesday, 1 May 2012


Today I am scrubbing my house.

I am cleaning up the mess that has been eating my life, as part of my Work for Her.

I need to respect myself, She says.

I need to take care of myself, She says.

I can't do that in this Cthulhu-like mess.

Clean house. Then formal ritual dedicating a whip to Her. Then feast.

It's Her holiday, so it's special.
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Saturday, 10 March 2012

Eviction Notice

I've been renting out my space.

Sovereignty is total control over my own body, my own life, my mental and spiritual space. It's what I aspire to in my worship of The Morrigan; it's what I'm supposed to do for Her. She wants a tool that is sovereign; one that's untainted by others' energies and maliciousness. (The same idea for my own tools -- I'm not happy when someone else's energy gets on them.)

And I've been renting out my space.

I do this too often. And the tenants have left a mess for me to clean up.

I'm tired of being a landlady. For all I give them, they give shit back.

The land of my life is tired and broken. It grows nothing. I am barren, a wasteland wrought by people's greed. There isn't even any rain anymore, because it takes too much energy to cry.

All I can do is post an eviction notice.

Knock, knock. Your time using me up is done. Get out.