Festivals — the benefits of building new ones — TPE March week 4

Wk 4- Mar. 23- Any writing for the letters E or F – I am keeping this familiar format on week 4 for those who have joined me from the Pagan Blog Project.


While it may be true that Poseidon is enjoying a bit of popularity right now (which is ridiculously exciting for me, considering that other people’s interactions with their gods are none of my business. I can’t help but be on the sidelines here all YAY POSEIDON!!!) one cannot argue that He does not have the following that some deities have. Since I can’t imagine being a god is a popularity contest, mostly I don’t care — I’m not worried about how He feels about these things because they are by and large beneath Him. He is very much  ‘those who need to find Me, and those I call to Me will find and hear Me,’ in His approach; I’ve never felt the need to be a priestess to Him in that sense, in the going out and preaching about Him and trying to gather people to Him. He doesn’t need me for that. We’re good.

 I would be lying through my teeth, though, if I said that compared with the amount of rituals and festivals and what-all other People have, the seeming lack of festivals that center around Poseidon didn’t irk. I’ve written before about having realized, almost as soon as I started looking toward Hellenismos (especially Athenian flavored influences) that what I was really after was a Poseidon-centered ‘wheel of the year’, and coming to know that if that’s what I wanted, that I would have to build one for myself. I’ve written about how I was annoyed at first — and yes, irked for His benefit, even if He wasn’t. “If it needed to survive, it would have,” He reasoned. Poseidon. He’s very Zen, I tell you.

I’ve also written about my various rituals and festivals for Poseidon. Many of them are based on some part or another of o/Our relationship, and won’t apply to other people’s experiences, but a few (the Vigil for the Bulls, the celebration of Poseidon Hippios, Poseidon of the Ponds, Poseidon of the Mysteries) are less specific to u/Us and either draw upon historical connections He’s had which we know about, or are inspired by contemporary understanding and connections. (You can check out my Poseidon Festivals page to follow links to write-ups about some of them, but I have to admit, I’m not very diligent when it comes to writing about them. I’ve observed far, far more than I’ve actually shared.)

I suspect I’ve also already written about the benefit I’ve found in creating the festivals for Him that I have. I know I’m not alone in either the creating of festivals nor in the finding benefit from doing so, but now and again it hits me that my stance has totally changed from where it was way back when. I was annoyed, not just at the seeming disregard for this .  . . well, awesome . . . god, but also because of the work I had to put in to developing my own ‘wheel of the year.’ I was annoyed that I couldn’t just dust off Athen’s ancient calendar and plug it into my life, like so many others seemed to be able to do. (I know, though, that even those following more ‘popular’ gods still felt [and feel!] a desire to create new festivals, despite all that) Now, though? Now I am so grateful that this was the case . . . because the festivals that mark my year are living, breathing things that resonate with my soul, that celebration Poseidon’s presence in my life, because they allow me to honor Him regularly, and they help remind me that He is more than just the narrow bits of Himself that He is able to share with me.

Our path is one of healing, of compassion, of awareness. I’m not involved with horses on any sort of an immediate level, yet taking time to honor Poseidon Hippios, to honor the sacred connection He has with equines, is important. The Vigil for the Bulls is more immediately connected to the path I walk with Him, but even that stretches me to hold more of Him in my view.

I don’t think it’s necessary that one must build a whole year’s worth of observances, rituals, or festivals toward worshiping a god or spirit in order to reap the benefits of creating something so intimate, so meaningful. That’s simply what I felt a need to do, something that I wanted to have. I do think it’s important to create at least one.  You could argue that it’s enough to take existing festivals and making them into something personally relevant. That’s completely acceptable and works, too — Beth and I have done that with Ostara, in a way, as our Ostara centers around honoring Bragi and Idunna. But, Ostara still comes with a number of the Ostara trappings and traditions — which we enjoy — and thus has a little less freedom that creating something whole hog.

Building a festival can be a rewarding, intimate experience, a special exchange between you and the god or spirit(s) in question. Depending on your tradition, it can be anything you need, want, or feel inspired to have it be — and it’s beautiful. Having something that uniquely caters to celebrating your relationship, or your understanding of the god(s) or spirit(s) in question can be deeply fulfilling. I know it has been for me, and I’m grateful these days, rather than annoyed, that this is the shape my calendar year has taken.


Hey there, compassion and assumptions on self! How’s it going?

In the quest to relieve some pretty intense, pretty distracting, pretty “life is on hold while I deal with this,” pain that’s been going on since December, my current doctor decided bloodwork would be fun, so we had that done. It’s been ages, and hey, why not see how things are going right now?

The results came back with some interesting and unexpected news that’s very likely going to end up with me on medication from here on out. It’s not life-threatening, but it’s certainly a quality of life issue (as in, hey, here are reasons why diet doesn’t seem to be altering your constant desire to sleep one iota). It’s not a big deal at all. Further more, I have a household of people on daily maintenance medications (some of whom would die without it) and so it’s not like I think daily maintenance medication is a bad thing. While I do think that much of the pharmaceutical field has the wrong goals, I don’t think pharmaceutical help is evil, lazy, wrong, not trying hard enough, etc. (And if YOU do, great, but those comments will not get through moderation, so save yourself the trouble and don’t even bother.)

Still, I’m sort of sitting in shock over this, and am somewhat discomforted by it. and just . . . uncomfortable. It’s not an ageing issue (I don’t think?) because I’m rather aware of my mortality, and am still more curious about the process of dying than I am scared — though I’m not eager to go, and there are too many stories to get written first!! — so I’m not really sure what my issue of Do Not Want is.

It’s curious, and it’s humbling, and it’s allowing me to dig deeper. Unexpected reactions, when you think you know yourself well, are interesting and fun. Or, at least, interesting and interesting.

In the meantime: some decent pain meds so sleep can happen, and trying to get some PT lined up to help with sciatica issue. (Nerves are stupid. Why can’t they be all, “oh, hey, this is still effed up,” maybe with a burst of pain every, I dunno, 12 hours? Why does it have to be “fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck yoooooooooooooooooooooou!!” so very constantly?)

Deity and the Divine — TPE March week 3

Wk 3- Mar. 16- Deity and the Divine- This will be the third week’s topic every month and an opportunity for you to share with everyone those who guide, inspire and inform you.

Optional: I would like to add another layer to this for this month. I was away at the Between the Worlds/Sacred Space joint conferences last week and a similar topic was presented to the featured speakers as a plenary topic for discussion. So, I offer this to you…

What is your relationship with the Divine? Is it Devotional? Collaborative? An agreement of reciprocity? How does this engagement flow into your mundane relationships? or Does it?


Is my relationship with my gods and spirits devotional? Collaborative? An agreement of reciprocity? The short answer is: yes.

I’ve written before about how it is the guidance of the rune Gebo which informs my mindset when it comes to my relationships — my relationships with my family, my gods, my spirits, my place within the worlds. For those who don’t know, Gebo is the Elder Futhark rune that means ‘gift’. Shaped like an X, the rune speaks to me of exchange. It’s the exchange between equals, the lateral exchange, the reciprocal exchange that, for example, Beth and I share — two people on equal ground, giving and taking. In this way the rune represents the societal give-and-take, the warp and weft that makes up the fabric of society. Then there’s the other direction, an exchange of energy from below to above, and from above to below. This speaks to me of the give and take between the mortal realm and the spiritual realms. This is me receiving what it is my spirits and my gods have to offer me, and me offering what I have to give to my spirits and my gods.

It may be an unromantic, cold, clinical understanding of how these relationships work, but I see nothing wrong with saying that the giving and the receiving of gifts forms an integral foundation to my relationships. I’m not altruistic. I do not give of myself simply to give of myself. I don’t always sit and ponder what I might get out of a situation. I don’t plot “if I do X for this person, in the future I might be able to call in favors.” To use an example from my real life: I’m a writer. I have a decent amount of writing under my belt, though I don’t have a ton of material out for public consumption when it comes to fiction. Just the same, I’ve been writing fiction seriously since I was in high school. Not prolifically maybe, but still, seriously. With a professional eye. I read a lot (a lot) and I read things like The Chicago Manual of Style for fun. I also have training in copy-editing, graphic arts, and printing. I don’t, as yet, do freelance editing for pay, and I don’t have a professional history as an editor, but I do sometimes edit manuscripts of friends and offer critiques — often more in depth than what some printing houses offer. Because it is for friends, because I’m not doing it professionally, and because I want to read the books anyway, I don’t charge for this . . . but I’ve also established some good relationships with authors whose writing I admire, and I’ve gotten “free” offers at cover work from some of them. It’s not really free, because I’ve done “free” work for them, as well — it’s reciprocal. I didn’t offer to read their material so that I could get anything out of it . . . but I also knew that this was a possibility. Maybe it is cold. Maybe it is cunning  . . . but I don’t think this is a bad thing, necessarily, and it does not make my wanting to something for other people less genuine. (Because, damn it, I wanted to read those books NOW, not later when they’re published!) It’s not that different than networking, right? I mean, it basically is networking: you seek out contact with people in particular fields/with particular interests because they either have access to something you want access to, or they provide some service you want to get in on, or whatever it is. This is how family units work, even — no relationship (at least, no relationship in my world) is free of goals or agendas. There is something you want, or something they want, and the relationship is forged on that anvil of want and need.

My point here, and I hope that readers will understand, is that it’s possible to have genuine, loving, caring, kind relationships that are rooted in the give-and-take. Beth is arguably the most important human in my life. She’s my immediate family. We have built a home together, a life together, and she contributes more to my immediate foundation stability, emotionally, mentally, financially, than any other human. This does not mean that I don’t love her. It doesn’t mean that she has to continue to meet all these things in a particular order or to a set amount in order for the relationship to continue. But our relationship was built upon this give and take, without a doubt. We both needed someone who could support our goals in life, someone who could understand and share our vision for this semi-secluded, somewhat monastic lifestyle, someone who would not be threatened by coming second to Odin or Poseidon, and who would not need to have all our attention all of the time in order to feel secure, valued, and loved.


What does this have to do with my relationship with my gods? Well, let’s take Poseidon, for example. Is our relationship based on devotion? Maybe — but it’s not based on devotional activies so far you could spell them out in a recipe. It isn’t based on devotional acts so much as it’s based a devotional mindset. Is it collaborative? (Now I have a mental image of us with our heads bowed together, plotting some nefarious scheme!) Sort of? He has goals, and they’ve become mine, over time. Reciprocity certainly factors in . . . I don’t demand He give me things, but there are certain criteria that must be met if He wants certain other things, and I have no qualms asking for them. (It’s harder for me to believe that I could possibly give Him anything of as much value back, but He says I do, and it’s just plain old rude to insist I know better the value of my gift than He, the recipient, does).

When our relationship began, I wanted to be saved. I wanted to healed. I wanted to be loved. I was dying an emotional death — I was in the last throes of it — and my spirit wanted help.

Once, when I was much younger, I was walking home with my grandmother from a doctor’s appointment. She slipped and fell, and wound up fainting. I was seven or eight — pretty young — and I’d never seen anyone faint before. I was terrified. I didn’t know what to do, and we were far enough away from the house that I couldn’t run and get help. So, I ran into the middle of the street and started screaming and crying for help. (For weeks, I talked about how I saved my grammy’s life. I also scored a stuffed animal out of being the hero. Go me.)  When I think of the night that I met Poseidon, I imagine my spirit doing the spiritual equivalent of seven-year-old hero Jo did. I didn’t know what to do, didn’t know where to go for help, and I imagine my spirit reaching out, screaming for help, for anyone who would listen and respond, to do something, anything . . . and I imagine Poseidon hearing my spirit’s pleas, and responding.

It’s hard to look at the relationship I have built with Poseidon and try to figure out exactly what it is based on, because it is such an all-encompassing part of my life. There isn’t a part of my life that He does not touch — and this is more or less true with Pops, as well. But what about Others? What about Hekate and Selene, what about Hera and Aphrodite? What about the local spirits I’m involved with?

In those cases, it depends. Hekate matters to Poseidon, and so my relationship with Her is both collaborative between He and I (“observe the dark of the moon for Her with Me,”) and reciprocal through Him (“You have given much to Him, because He tells me You have, so I praise You and give You these things because of His love for You.”) It’s not really my own personal devotion — its’ more this thing I do with my Beloved because it matters to Him. With Aphrodite, it’s more a devotion in the ‘wanting to offer continual thanks for these few HUGE things She did for me, years ago’ sense. I can never, ever repay that debt, but I’m not asking for continued gifts, and I’m not doing things with Her, so I can’t call it collaborative, either.

So, the answer to this question is, as I mentioned: yes.


Snakes! (and witches)

Jolene Poseidonae:

Reblogging because, while I am biased, I think Beth’s creations are gorgeous.

Also, our home is tiny and the more you buy, the more we can make! :)

Originally posted on Wytch of the North:

In my recent post about my personal religious calendar, I mentioned that Bolverk’s Day is coming up next week, on Tuesday.  This is a holiday I created to honor Odin’s snake persona, Bolverk, in the Mead of Poetry tale–mostly because I wanted more Odin holidays, but also because it seemed like a good alternative to St. Patrick’s Day with its anti-pagan associations.

Well, in addition to my love for Bolverk, I also have a love for snakes in general; they are among the animals I resonate with most strongly on a spiritual level, and as a Witch I love their symbolic connections with magick, the underworld, necromancy, mystery–a lot of the areas that fall into Odin’s domain.

So. To kick off my Bolverk’s Day celebration (and because today is Friday the 13th), I thought today would be a good time to showcase some of the serpentine and witchcraft-connected items…

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As Above . . . so below? — a (late) TPE post

Recently(ish) I’ve begun to marvel at the transformation Poseidon has made of my life. Well, not so much my life as, you know, of me. I’m not sure where I am on the fence of whether or not people can change the essential bits of who they are (are we changing, or are we deprogramming the crap that we are taught, that we take into ourselves, that clutter our essence up and makes it hard to know who we truly are? I know I can’t make that call; can you?) . In my own experience, Poseidon (and Odin!) has worked to clear away the clutter of the not-me (not important to me or not originally my idea(s) or distracting from my goal of being more connected with Him or what have you), to, in a sense, distill me into who I want to be/who He wants me to be. Our interactions take place under a firm, unwavering awareness (heh) that I am forced to acknowledge, of His appreciation, affection, understanding, acceptance, and Love for who I am as I am now, who i’ve been, where I’ve come from, and who I’ll be. It’s difficult, even this far into our relationship, to not get bogged down with fears of, “what if it’s for this future self?”

I’ve talked before about how Poseidon has helped me grow into a more loving (dare I dream, a more Loving), compassionate, patient person. That touches upon what I want to talk about in this post, because it builds into it, but it’s not the main point. The main point potentially dances close to hubris — or, at least it may, in some people’s eyes — but I put forth that in some cases, our gods and spirits may be more like us than we initially are comfortable with.

I’ve talked before about the narrow view we often are presented with, when it comes to beings like Poseidon, or Hera. (Thanks, Homer!) My god is often portrayed as a temperamental, brooding, dark god, possibly depressive, certainly unstable, with moments of flying off into rages. Holding in mind the idea that the gods can grow and change and evolve, and holding in mind the idea that most stories have kernels of truth in them, even when that’s all they have, and holding in mind the idea that Poseidon has a deep connection with the human psyche, I have to wonder: how much of this idea of Him is true? How much could it be true?

My experience with Poseidon has introduced me to a god who can hold Himself utterly still, utterly cold, utterly aloof — but it’s also taught over time that this aloofness, this distance, is a lie. I thought, at first, that Poseidon did not care about humanity, though I learned over the years that it was my own apathy that was being reflected back at me, and that His detachment held no apathy at all, merely a surrender to the constant that is change, a lack of viewing us as anything special (which is not to say that He does not find us valuable. My Lord loves life, loves mortality, loves mortals and incarnation and the physical plane.) It was His wisdom during that first meeting, when He shared with me that our need to dominate our surroundings, that our devouring of this earth, was not a special evil but mere instinct urges left unchecked, His guidance to put my understanding of humanity back within the animal kingdom, that allowed me to crawl out of the apathy for the first time in a long, long time, and it’s those words that even now help me hold it at bay.

I think of this, as I was speaking to a friend yesterday about the weather patterns, change that was put into play years ago that we are feeling now — a weird year climate wise in all parts of the world. I think of this as I read about the growing acid levels in the oceans, and as I think of mass extinctions and life loss. Our planet has held a number of mass extinctions — many of them were before humans existed. Change is constant, even on a geological time-scale. Poseidon said to me, all those years ago, that to think that we could destroy the planet, to make it so that life could not go on, was . . . well, He didn’t use the word ‘hubris’ but that was His intent. Arrogant and disrespectful, small-minded and wrong. He followed this up with admitting that, yes, we could render the planet inhospitable for life as we know it, and for all intents and purposes, for us, that would be destroying life. This was another carefully worded sentence that helped me combat my apathy and it took some weight off my spirit. (Mind you, at the time, I was full into ‘I MUST SAVE EVERYTHING’, so removing some of that weight was a necessary thing.) Does this mean that it’s okay that we’re responsible for so many extinctions and exploitations, of our fellow humans and other creatures? Of course not– just because we can destroy life as we know it doesn’t mean we should, right?


I’ve held a portion of His Grief in my heart. From time to time He not allows it but insists upon it. Much of the Vigil for the Bulls is about sharing in His Grief, His Mourning. What is it, when a god mourns? How do I not run, screaming-mad, into the waters, into the wilds, to rave and starve and die?  And how do I reconcile this Grief, this surrender to the inevitability of our transience, while holding on, too, to the Joy and Love and Celebration that He shares with me?


Once, a time or five, I’ve accused Poseidon of either being too moody for me to deal with, or accused myself of being too moody for Him to deal with. Each time, every time, I’ve been met with at bemusement and patience. The story I tell myself (and the world) about this reaction is; Poseidon has learned patience, over the aeons. It does not feel to me, with His self-deprecation and His owning of His past, that this was a natural state for Him. He’s spoken of temper left unleashed and unintended decimation of populations — and He’s not always talking about humankind. He’s hinted at Powers manifesting in the physical world without care, and having to mitigate the damage caused. His lessons of awareness, of mindfulness, and of compassion — these are tools that have been useful to Him, and He is sharing them with me (and, it seems, with many of us who are called to worship Him).

I am teeny when compared to Him. I’m not likening myself to a god in any sort of a major way . . . . but w/We have a kinship, and He and I are more alike that w/We are different, it would seem.


Things I Don’t Write About

Jolene Poseidonae:

You should do yourself a favor and go read this. My favorite quote? “We will always be inadequate to the task. It’s therefore cruel to pick at the practice of someone else, inexcusably mean to criticize the work another is engaged in.”

Yes, I’m a fan firmly in Camp Silence, but even if I wasn’t, this is just a beautiful, heart-moving piece.

Originally posted on The Road, the Walker, and What Comes Next :

I don’t write about spirit work – except for the times when I do.

I don’t write about the excelcius moments that arise from divine proximity – except when I do.

I don’t write about the grinding sensation of failure, of inadequacy, of intrinsic inability.

I don’t write about the stress, anxiety, confusion, or despair.

I don’t write about the messages I hear.

I don’t  write about the People I meet.

I don’t write about the calling or the response.

I don’t write about the currents, winds, streams, or rivers.

I don’t write about the whispers.

I don’t write about the job.

I don’t write about the joy.


I’ve become a reasonably successful recluse. I’m not known for these things because I don’t talk about them. I don’t talk about them because they are a greater piece of my heart than I thought anything could be. I don’t talk about…

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Blue Trident (Bracelet)

Jolene Poseidonae:

Reblogging because: Poseidon. I know there are at least a few people who read my blog because: Poseidon. I’m not one to stay that someone who has been worshiping a god or spirit longer is necessarily better, so please beat me if I ever sound like that. I will trot out this though — you young whippersnappers (regardless of age) have NO IDEA what it used to be like to try to find trident jewellery. No. Idea. The combination of Etsy and Percy Jackson’s popularity has created a veritable dreamland of trident jewellery options. Yes, so some of them are all Percy Jackson-ified, but not all of them are. Then there’s the access to more Eastern/Shiva influenced designs, and it’s just greater than you know. When I was your age (devotionally speaking) I had to swim backwards uphill both ways . . .

Seriously, this is a beautiful bracelet. It’s all bling-y and pretty, and it has a TRIDENT on it.

Just sayin’.

Originally posted on Wytch of the North:


This bracelet is a perfect devotional piece for deities associated with the ocean, such as Poseidon, Neptune, Triton, or Njord, and would also be appropriate for Lucifer, due to the deep blue-violet of the iolite and the fact that the trident could easily double as a pitchfork.

The focal point is a silvertone trident, which also serves as a clasp; the silvertone lobster claw clasp fastens directly to the trident’s middle fork. The trident has a gentle curve to it, so as to fit perfectly over the curve of your wrist. (The last photo shows how it looks when worn.)

Flanking the trident (or pitchfork) are genuine iolite chips in gorgeous deep indigo, framed by genuine tiger ebony beads and sapphire celsian Czech glass crystals polished with an amber glow. The bracelet is 7 1/2 inches long, with the trident measuring 1 1/2 inches horizontally.

Iolite is a stone of…

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Giving it another go — Percy Jackson

I discovered Rick Riordan’s Olympian series not long after the third book was released, though I put off giving the series a go until more of the books had be published because Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time and George R. R. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire long, long ago burned out any willingness on my part to get involved in anything longer than a trilogy before all the books had been released. I was excited about the series, but realistic, and while I pride myself on not being a genre snob, I have to admit that I do tend to automatically shy away from books or series that seem “too” popular. Because I don’t want to ever turn my nose up at a book based on other people’s opinions, I made myself read the first book once it was clear that the author would finish the series.

I remember not much liking it, but because, hey, Poseidon! I decided to try again a while after, in preparation to seeing the movie version. Really ought not have done so, because I discovered again that I didn’t much care for the book and I was set up to dislike the movie for changing so much as well as embracing what I think of as lazy writing. (Underworld beings as villains? How . . . original. I mean, the story was already written for you! Why did you have to change so much??)

This isn’t to say that I did not enjoy Kevin McKidd’s portrayal of Poseidon on the big screen. The opening scene where they pay homage to this statue as he’s coming out of the water? Pretty much makes the movie for me — even if Kevin makes too fair of a Poseidon for my taste.

Now, I know that a poor representation of the gods as characters is an age old story telling issue that goes back to Homer, that it is not a problem brought about by millennia of monotheist-dominated cultures. That said, it wasn’t Riordan’s writing itself, or even what could be seen as irreverence that bothered me — why should he write reverently about divinities he does not worship? While I feel I have an onus to write respectfully of gods and spirits, even when having them fulfill an antagonistic role in a story, and while I wish more pagan or pagan friendly writers shared that goal, I certainly don’t expect anyone else to. I simply enjoy stories more when respect is granted — yes, even while I know that a fictional representation may be just that: fiction. At the same time, I know the spirits and gods can use whatever tools come to hand, and if any of Them ever decided to use my fiction as a tool through which to reach someone, I want that tool to be respectful.

Considering the complexity of the interactions I’ve had with Dionysos (the relationship between Poseidon and Dionysos is, at best, a Mystery that I have on hopes of getting into words, and am not even going to try, but it has not ever been easy or necessarily pleasant, these brief interactions) the fact that the portrayal of Dionysos in the series was the most off-putting for me and thus is what turned me away from them after the first three books is somewhat amusing.

But then I was chatting about them in brief with Terence a while ago, and trying to explain why I didn’t care for them. And I thought: the series is finished now. Why not try again?

I’m not sure what’s changed about them, so much. I’m only halfway through the second book (for the second time) but I’m finding them entertaining-enough. I love, even without having read them, how they’ve brought an awareness of Poseidon to the minds of people who might not have come across Him. Yes, I know, fiction . . . but I don’t care. And I don’t hate how much easier it is to find trident images and pendants and jewellery now that it was twenty years ago.

So, to sum up: yay Poseidon!

You Wound Me

You wound me,
with carefully honed precision
and seemingly thoughtless words
with timing, off,
and a sometimes disregard for my weaknesses.

You push me,
when I’d rather just be
held safe and fast, wrapped tight
in Your arms
and the knowledge that I have Your regard.

You challenge me,
to step out of that comfort,
demanding that I move beyond what I’ve known
that I meet You
more than halfway.

You wound me,
tearing open the scars to relish
the pain, festering, that needs to run
like blood from my body,
until I am vulnerable, until I am open, until I can’t even think to hide.

I rail back at You,
angry and hurt by turns
Why now? Why in this place, on this day,
The need to push, to demand.
I don’t want to be stronger,
I want to be held.

You wound me
and You cannot seem to decide whether
it is my audacity at being furious with You
or my moments of awe-induced shock that I dare be angry
at You, oh, at You
That pleases You more.

You wound me,
but the confines of Your love holding fast
never — not for one moment — slipping
and where, Beloved, where else, would my open wounds be as safe,
if not here, now, with You?