A man who walks in the black wind; the dry reeds rustle quietly Through the silence of the marshy pastures. In the grey skies A migration of wild birds move in ranks Catty-corner over dark waters. Insurgence. In the collapsing houses Decay is ﬂuttering out with black wings; Crippled-up birches breathe heavily in the wind. Evening in empty roadhouses. The longing for home settles about The delicate despair of the grazing ﬂocks, Vision of the night: toads plunge from silver waters.
I'm a woman, a Witch, a mother, a grandmother, an eco-feminist, a gardener, a reader, a writer, and a priestess of the Great Mother Earth. Hecate appears in the
Homeric Ode to Demeter, which tells of Hades who caught Persophone
"up reluctant on his golden car and bare her away lamenting. . . . But no one, either of the deathless gods or of mortal men, heard her voice, nor yet the olive-trees bearing rich fruit: only tenderhearted Hecate, bright-coiffed, the daughter of Persaeus, heard the girl from her cave . . . ."