Song of Star Woman

8 09 2006

“It was in the winters

Before The People

Came into being

That Star Woman Came.

She saw Mother Earth

And thought her lonely.

All praise Star Woman.

Star Woman spoke to

The Great Sprit of this. 

He agreed,

Mother Earth

Needed children to love.

Together Great Spirit

And Star Woman

Fashioned The People.

Brother to the wild things.

From the dust of the Stars

From the Oceans made them.

Gave them life with

A warm breath from

White Tatanka’s mouth.

Awaken, Great Spirit’s children.

Blessed them with

Plenty, and faith.

Set them in a good land.

Made us caretakers

Of our Mother Earth.

Walk softly on our Mother.

Great Spirit spoke to them,

‘Care well for your Mother,

Love her, keep her happy.’

I will watch over you,

And shine upon you.

Great Sprit’s first promise.

In times of great trouble,

I will return to you,

And never abandon you.

You are my children,

Born of the dust of the stars

And the tears of Mother Earth.

Heed Great Spirit’s words.”

                         GwenGuin





Dead Woman’s Waltz

21 08 2006

One two three
Two two three
Three two three

In strange, dark, touchless world whirling. How is it I came to be here? This is not as I knew things to be. Here sight is sightless and sound is at once colour too. Pain is no longer my companion. How peculiar, as pain is a reminder that we still live.

Four two three
Five two three
Six two three

dead woman's waltz
Touchless, yet I am suspended in the arms of someone, I know it. Still no breath warms my cheek, nor does his embrace warm me. Yet this breathless warmthless entity knows me well enough to anticipate every movement. My pained, contorted body has somehow become elegant again.

Seven two three
Eight two three
Again two three

I must test this body, cautiously I allow myself to dip backwards to where my hair brushes my heel. Beautiful how this dancer knows me and twirls me round bent back, my head relaxes and my neck is as long as any swan. I spin faster and find my body upright and pulled close. The stranger has no heartbeat,. Panic. Suddenly I am aware I cannot hear the beat of my own heart.

Two two three
Three two three
Four two three

What is this strange place? Who dances with me? I cannot smell, nor taste. I search for light and there is none. The dancer holds me in embrace but I cannot hold him. I try to draw breath but there is nothing rushing in and out. I scream silently. Let me awake.

Five two three
Six two three
Seven two three

Questions rise and fall with the steps of this dance. No answers come my way. The entity allows me to stand, step and dip. I am becoming accustomed to this new sensory excitement. My body is in the old sense of what once I knew, gone. This dance is pure movement no corporeal body limits me now.

Eight two three
Red two three
Blue two three

Mauve pulses forth epiphanies. Reds swarm as I fear, blues billow on surrender to the ghostly arms, greens swirl on acceptance, golds glow as I trust and let be.. At once all I am, and have been, folds into the glow of a thousand colours harmonising ripples on which to carry me away. Away and here, forever a part of, and never apart, simply and gloriously absorbed in good.

Green two three
Gold two three
Good two three





A Marvellous Rare Tome

13 08 2006

I couldn’t help myself, after I had finished cleaning, I started away up on the third level, where Baba Yaga and Mme. Le Enchanteur house their library of occult/mystical/magickal books.  There are so many wonderful titles up here!!

This one slim book, in oxblood leather so old it was a reddish-black, caught my eye.  I opened it and the page was so fragile I was afraid to move it.  So, I let the book open on its own.

A piece of paper slid loose from between the pages, It had the what appeared to be the lines of a poem written on it in precisely drawn cunieform. 

I turned the slip of paper over and there was the translation, in formal English.  It said, “To Summon Hecate”.  A spell???  Just a poem??  A fraud to publicise the writer’s work??

At the top of the page was a carefully rendered pentacle in both ink and watercolour. Flanking it were two miniature crossroads in an early Greek style.

Before the poem itself were brief instructions,
“In the dark of the moon, go to a crossroads, and light a small fire.  Read the words thrice, placing your offering in the fire.  Remain at the crossroads until Aurora appears in the sky.  Keep the fire burning all night.”

“Lady of the Dark Moon,

Unmasker of evildoers,

Guardian of The Crone,

Hear my plea.

Attend my words

Grandmother of all.

Smile upon us,

Give us wisdom.

O Distant One,

Cousin to the

Divine Huntress

Fair Pallas Athene.

Keep the ghosts

Far from my home,

Turn away

The witch’s gaze.

O Hecate, 

Bring to us

Fair days and

Good harvests.”

I read it silently and chose to not go any further, I felt the cool touch of Hecate’s power and knew myself to be too weak to harness it.

I have locked the book and the page in the Library’s safe, to which only Mme. Le Enchanteur, Soulsister, and myself have the combination.  That is the safest course.  I cannot bear to destroy something of such age, and reality, so I did my best to keep it safe, out of temptation’s way.





For the Love of this Beautiful Planet

11 08 2006

for artists without borders

I love this planet and take great offense to all who are willing to blow it to bits in the name of hatred and vengeance As women we have to raise better sons, with better values, and greater respect for the dignity of life. As an artist I would like to stop everyone to stand back and find beauty, and put the guns down. If we are not silent, and the like-minded stand together, they cannot win.

aletta





Knowing Hecate

3 08 2006

La Belle Dame Sans Merci by Heather Blakey August 3 2006

Poem lyrics of La Belle Dame Sans Merci by John Keats.

Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge is withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.

Ah, what can ail thee, wretched wight,
So haggard and so woe-begone
The squirrel’s granary is full,
And the harvest’s done.

I see a lily on thy brow
With anguish moist and fever dew,
And on thy cheek a fading rose
Fast withereth too.

I met a lady in the meads,
Full beautiful, a faery’s child:
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.

I set her on my pacing steed,
And nothing else saw all day long;
For sideways would she lean, and sing
A faery’s song.

I made a garland for her head,
And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She looked at me as she did love,
And made sweet moan.

She found me roots of relish sweet,
And honey wild, and manna dew,
And sure in language strange she said,
“I love thee true!”

She took me to her elfin grot,
And there she gazed and sighed deep,
And there I shut her wild, sad eyes–
So kissed to sleep.

And there we slumbered on the moss,
And there I dreamed, ah! woe betide,
The latest dream I ever dreamed
On the cold hill side.

I saw pale kings, and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
Who cried–“La belle Dame sans merci
Hath thee in thrall!”

I saw their starved lips in the gloam,
With horrid warning gaped wide,
And I awoke and found me here,
On the cold hill side.

And that is why I sojourn here,
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.

posted by Heather Blakey





Hecate Unmasked – Ying and Yang

1 08 2006

 

Hecate Unmasked by Heather Blakey August 2006