This is a prayer for park rangers. The postal workers. Librarians.
This is a prayer for janitors at the IRS. The satellite technicians. Weathermen.
This is a prayer for programers. The building guards. Paralegals.
This is a prayer for forensic accountants. The receptionists. Translators.
This is a prayer for those who will save us. This is a prayer for the Resistance.
Roots down, branches up, I cry to Her, Hecate, Queen of the Dead.
Out of the dark, I cry to the Queen of the Dark and, lost on the road, I cry to the Queen of the Crossroads.
I pour absinthe. I burn wormwood. I drip hot blood into an offering bowl.
She comes as She always comes. A darkness so vast and so deep that it can never end.
She comes as She always comes. A gentle pressure, the surety of knowing the end.
She comes as She always comes. A secret agent of the Moon. And She has friends.*
“Matron of Matrons,” I call to Her. “You have a torch, a key, red mushrooms spotted white. Hold high, I beg, your burning torch to shine a path through the dark for those who resist.”
My Goddess holds out Her key. In the dark, she holds a cold key in the palm of her hand. And the brave ones unlock secrets that they guard by constantly revealing.
“Matron of Matrons,” I call to Her. “You have a three-headed dog, a labrys, a cord. Bind with your cord, I beg, the hands of the tyrants when they seek to strangle the Resistance.”
My Goddess lifts her labrys. In the dark, she lifts her labrys and slices away the resisters’ fears. And the brave ones do the next right thing.
“Matron of Matrons,” I call to Her. “You have ease for the birthing mother, comfort for shades afraid of the ferry, wort-craft for Witches. Ease, I beg, the birth of this Resistance.”
My Goddess puts wolfsbane, hemlock, oleander, and daphne into her mortar and slowly moves the pestle. In the dark, She grinds the poison herbs. She points to the portal and offers the herbs to me. “Scatter these in My name,” She says. “Whenever you do this, do it in remembrance of Me.”
My Goddess says:
This is a spell for park rangers. The postal workers. Librarians.
This is a spell for janitors at the IRS. The satellite technicians. Weathermen.
This is a spell for programers. The building guards. Paralegals.
This is a spell for forensic accountants. The receptionists. Translators.
This is a spell for those who will save you. This is a spell for the Resistance.
You know what to do.
- Barbara Starrett
Wildwood Hollow Studio 