Witches’ Prayer

A poem

Great Mother, Make me a channel of your peace.

Let my bones be the hollow chimes through which your song flows.

Let my spirit be the still lake which reflects your endless sky.

Let the November moon rise whole and crimson in the waters of my womb.

Let me fall still with the autumn leaves. Let me dance with beauty on the descent.

Let me bury myself deep in the dark winter earth like a tiny seed.

Let the snow fall soft upon the fields as I sleep, sleep, sleep.

Grant me the wisdom to trust when the time has come to emerge, and the strength to break through the concrete of my conditioning.

Grant me the courage to be seen, to wear my colours with the grace of a wild flower.

Let the morning dew gather on my petals, reflecting the starlight of each new day.

Grant me the fearlessness to root ever downwards and inwards as I reach towards the sun.

So mote it be. And it harm none.

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