Sunday, February 11, 2007

Poetry by M. Macha Nightmare

M. Macha Nightmare is a witch who holds ministerial credentials through The Covenant of the Goddess (CoG). Her matron is also the same as mine - the Hindu goddess Kali. The following poems are borrowed from the book The Pagan Book of Living and Dying: Practical Rituals, Prayers, Blessings, and Meditations on Crossing Over, co-written with Starhawk.

KALI: The Vampire Time Drinks the Blood of Life
The Pitch Black Witch

In your Heart beats the Blood of Death.
Your Pulse drums destruction.
You dance.
Under Your Feet
The cosmos tremble, collapses.
The Gods cry out in dissolution.
You dance.
The end of All
We can imagine
and cannot imagine.
You make the Worlds
Want You.

Witch of the Burning Ground,
Your magic bedazzles me with Being.
O Goddess touch me not!
Your beauty makes me shudder in Your Arms.
My hear becomes Your cremation ground.
I become a corpse.
I bleed for Your Kiss.
I feed Your Hunger.
I burn for You.
I arise like smoke.
I redden Your Eyes with my joy.
You make me
Want You.

The Hag Prayer

Goddess of death,
you are a mystery
and I do not understand you.
You give great gifts
and snatch them away.
You are a cruel joker
with a warped sense of humor
and I hate you.
You give life to those
who don't deserve it and take it from those
who do.
You make no sense, Goddess;
you are not logical,
or if you are, it's a logic we cannot follow.
You are not fair.

Hag, hag,
ugly old hag,
you claim that if we embrace you
you will turn beautful,
but getting close to you
is like embracing sharp knives --
and I don't believe you,
I don't believe you.

Something has happened here
that is wrong, wrong, wrong,
and there is no way
to pretty it up
and make it be okay.

Mother of lies
mother of false promises
mother of tremors and pain and the loss of vision as we age
mother of confusion and memory loss
mother of stink and decay
mother of vermin
mother of viruses
mother of parasites that eats the living bodies of their hosts

You are the Goddess of the bloody face
who eats her own child
in the night.

Embrace the change
All that ever was exists now
in the living body of the being
we call universe, Goddess.
She breathes in --
we are born.
She breakes out --
we die.
But birth and death are on the same wheel
which is always turning,
like the tide
or the changes of the moon.
We become ancestors, the unborn,
the guardians of those to come.
Cherish the turning,
the letting go and the bringing forth,
decay and growth,
life and death.
All points on the wheel are sacred.
Embrace the change.

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