Beloved Dark Mother,
To you who are known by so many names across space and time, it is with the fervent devotion of a burst-open heart and the awe-struck reverence of the enraptured that I write in homage at this inky, indrawn moment of the winter solstice.
As your shadowy season gives way to the return of light, I offer you true gratitude for all that has gone — for all the doors that have tightly closed, for all the roads that have faded into sheer ether, for all the multifarious completions and conclusions — as I reflect upon and integrate the incandescent lessons they have bestowed upon me amidst the ashes of immolation. Thank you for taking what no longer serves and for clearing the path so that new energies may take root and bloom from the fertile seeds cocooned within the cooling cinders, as the wheel turns.
For the womanly wisdom that courses through my veins from deep within your infinite pool, I joyously drink in your abundant knowledge. For your inner muse, the passionate fey creatrix with dark wings and shimmering heart, I am profoundly indebted as a receptive channel. For your oracular crone, the wizened governess with her penetrating prescience and unrestrained laughter, I offer the absolute veneration of a dutiful sibyl.
In honor, Dark Mother, in all your forms, I present these poetic words at this time of deepest shadow.
The Winter Queen dons her velvet mantle of freshly fallen snow,
drawing it close — closer, ever closer — in the stillness of the dusky night.
Ice crystal jewels adorn her rime-silvered crown,
set ablaze with the twinkling light of starseed salutations.
On her royal shoulder alights the owl, an ethereal courtier,
whispering — sotto voce, sotto voce — the wisdom of all realms.
The luminous beams of Grandmother Moon beckon the season’s solstice,
as the Empress ascends her frosty throne.
In Ardent Shakti and With Overflowing Metta,
Your Dedicated Daughter
For more self-study, The Urban Howl recommends Mysteries of the Dark Moon: The Healing Power of the Dark Goddess.