The Willow and the Magick Wand

March 13, 2019

 

I come to you sweet White Willow, my Moon Mother, the billowing gown of the Green Goddess. I come to you with wounded knees, blood stained, cracked and caked with the dirt of old feathers and bones and a broken heart from calculated untruths. I your vulnerable witness, your struggling servant, seeking refuge in the modest shelter of your weeping boughs. I come to you with a crippling confession that aches through every pleading piece of my being, that has me nauseous with what feels like a million butterflies both terrified and orgasmic-ecstatic. I crawl to your ancient base and wrap my weary arms in a child-like embrace to tell you just how deeply sorry I feel for taking so long to really see you. I confess that for so long I have not known the power of my prayer, of my heart to love fiercely, and the purifying fire that runs through my veins. I had no idea I meant something in this world, that the muddy tracks I make naked and barefoot in the silence of a dark forest are still some how seen, by some one. That these feet make an imprint which remains through all seasons and all cycles, somehow...somehow unfiltered. 

 

First, I’ll let my tears wash into the welcoming Earth and merge with the warm pond that sits still at your base. I’ll let my arms mimic yours and slouch in your shadow as I pray for the people and places and lands and all of the spaces my feet can only hope to reach.

 

I feel the deep scars where my wings once were and fill them with the delicate sap of your elegant sadness, your graceful tragedy which lives in its opposite as impenetrable bliss and perfect justice. Your tears are the purest womb waters which nourish this earthy flesh, the saliva of the Goddess as the enchanted priestess and alchemist. She drinks of her own tears with absolute glory, as I too will do now. I drink my tears and watch them transform.   

 

I bow to you Great Mother, sacred tree of enchantment and ask of you to receive a gift, a sacred tool, to draw boundaries between worlds and to weave Magick into form.

 

In undying gratitude to you, one of the seven of heaven. I seek guidance in the comfort of your prophetic vision, in the savage wild of your spark of life and the sultry surrender that has you move with such an incomparable beauty. The way you sway with the wind gives me hope and somehow has me breathing more deeply.  

 

Bless me with the gift of a wand, so that I may serve by the hand of your sacred Earth Magick. 

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