When October hands off the baton to November,
earthly time stretches to a l m o s t breaking point
and I see beyond this material world
into under- and over-world spirit.
Woodland sprites lure me to ritual,
challenge my terror of dead ones
and my caution near magic,
and compel me to where
gods know each other
and God welcomes
Here, safe and holy,
I name my cat Wicca,
invoke Gaia, He-cat-e,
Saints and Jesus, eat with mydead, circle and drum with sisters.
We then pray for the New Year and record
wishes on snips of cloth and papers to burn
away or plant deeply in next year’s grounding earth
for nurture until Winter hands the baton to Spring.
Written for my prompt Poets United Midweek Motif ~ Halloween, or Celebrating the Dead.
Copyright © 2014 S.L.Chast