Goddess of the cross-roads, Goddess of Manic-Depression, Dweller in the deep places of the earth and mind, Traveller in the land between worlds! Torch-bearer! Protectress of the very old and the very young; Protectress of those used and abused; Healer of those who are torn apart; She will be there for us when we call on her and at the end. Grandmother to lost children and to the downtrodden. Nurse to the suckling infant, Comfort to the lone man or woman in the darkest night. She who seeks vengeance for her children who are wronged! Wanderer and prowler! Sorceress who lives at the edge of the mind. Drawer-up of the secret compost from the unused internal well. She who has no relatives on the earth save for her children. Without Mother or Sister. Lady on the brink, both bi-polar and uni-polar! They call her mad, and it is she who terrifies the disbeliever and the unworthy! Bringer of nightmares! But she it is who sooths the sleepless and disheveled spirit. Mother of night! Dark Power of the moon! Keeper of the shadow! Walker of the endless highways! She unites those who follow her as her children; the Hekite. Bearer of the sacred poppy. Shape-shifter, Transformer. Keeper of the hounds of Hel and the three-headed dog Cerebus! She walks abroad in the hour of the wolf and under the Dark Moon! Hear my call O Lady and cover us with your starry cloak. Let the unborn moon seed in my heart this night. And let her growing light shine upon our intention; That she be at our full deliverance, So Mote it be!
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 . . . ."