And, so, tomorrow, I will do what I have been doing since I was a child, and a bit more than a child. On the Dark Moon, I will do what I have been doing since I off-trained from Chicago and pulled energy up from the Columbus fountain into my soul. I will show up at the intersection of the Capital, and SCOTUS, and Union Station, and a good restaurant, and an obscure agency, and I will do magic. You may look all over for me, but you will not find me, nor will you find the women with whom I gather. You may look for us, but you will not find the source of our magic. You may look for us, but we will be invisible to you.
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 . . . ."