Sacraments

Cooking is a sacred act.

I have not cooked for anyone in years.

I have been a woman excommunicated,

exiled from my own humanity.

No one breaks bread at this table, 

no one sleeps in this bed,

no one wakes to roses,

and the scent of cinnamon,

and blackberries 

in a bowl on the kitchen table.

No one showers while I drink coffee on Sunday morning.

This body, my body,

is broken like bread,

is made holy by your hands,

is made sacred with your mouth.

Your lips, my sacraments,

like the berries in the bowl,

fill my mouth with the divine.

Your breath warms me,

like the breath of God,

breathing life into this body.

Your hands bless me,

your touch makes me human,

makes me woman,

restores me to communion,

with God.

Lunae Memoriae

My Lady sails through silver sky,

Her pale skin, a shade of light,

She glows in brilliant radiance, my lover faire.

With gentle grace she wanders through the night,

Her gossamer gown flows ‘round about her feet,

Her footsteps leaving stardust in her path.

She sings with laughter, starlight song,

Her voice, a gentle shining mist,

Whispering the mystery.

Her soft touch, cool as evening aire,

Her kisses shimmer on my skin,

Gifts of music, soft and sweet.

Dancing through eternity,

My lover faire,

My Lady of sweet memory.

Requium for our cat

Spirits of the other realm

Guide our most familiar friend

When his spirit shall return

May he find us once again

Bind us here to one another

Bind our sorrow and our grief

Bind us with our love together

Make our time of mourning brief

Merry meet and merry part and merry meet again

Lord and Lady Blessed be

To our most familiar friend.

Invocation to my Patron

Gwynn ap Nudd

Dark Father, Lord of the Storm

Leader of the Hunt, Guide of the Dead

Guardian of the Cauldron of Annwfn

I come to you in the Dark

I cry to you in the storm

Hear me and Lead me home

Gwynn ap Nudd

Rider of the winds, Lord of the Dark

At whose feet my ancestors sit

I call to you in my despair

I am your child, I am in need

Embrace me in my weakness,

my ugliness, my fear

hear me and lead me home

For the Wild God

Cernunnos

Untamable Wild Spirit

Undeniable Force of Life

God of Carnal Pleasure and Passionate Joy,

Laughter and Love.

Come to me and Take me.

In that place of ecstasy

Where there are no boundaries to separate me

From all that you are.

For the Dark Maiden

Maiden Huntress

Bloudewydd,

Flower-Bride by magick made

to be the Bride of Light

yet your sovereignty never surrendered.

You chose your lover by your will

and sent the Eagle flying.

by Magick turned

from Flower-Bride to Night-Hunter

silent-winged Owl-Goddess

flying unheard to hunt the dark

sharp-seeing and swift

talons pierce soft fur,

warm flesh, fluttering heart

surrenders to your grasp.

Beltaine

Flowers ‘round the Maypole grow

Dancers weaving to and fro

Sunshine warms our Earth and hearts

Lord and Lady take their parts

Bringing all fertility

To our world, so mote it be

Ostara Prayer

Lord and Lady of Spring’s return

Come to us that we may learn

Of warming earth and growing Sun

Of greening life that newly comes

Into the world that we may see

and hope in love, So mote it be.

Be Thou my Vision Revised

Be Thou my Vision

(A traditional Irish Hymn, Revised by Diane Awenydd-Evans and Megan Moore)

Be Thou my vision, Oh Lord of my heart,

Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art.

Thou my best thought, by day or by night,

Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.

Be Thou my wisdom, and Thou my true word.

Lady I serve thee, Thy voice have I heard.

Thou my great Mother, and I Thy true child.

Thou in me dwelling and I with Thee, wild.

Riches I need not, nor man’s empty praise,

Thou mine inheritance, now and always.

Thou and Thou only, first in my heart,

Oh King of creation, my treasure Thou art.

Be Thou my refuge, my comfort, my home,

Be Thou my dignity, be Thou my throne,

Heart of my own heart, whatever befall,

Still be my vision, Oh Lady of all.