#neoceltic

a poem/prayer for those who encounter negative responses from other religions

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"Don't tell her you have those cards, She takes that stuff seriously." Well, Mom, I do, too- I use these cards religiously.

"Just come to church this time, It won't be a big deal." Yet every time I walk under the cross I'm told what I believe isn't real.

I apologize to those Who find themselves offended, For they are narrow-minded And I refuse to end this.

This is my religion; I am a witch at heart. Herbs and crystals and candles and such Are what I consider my art.

The craft is my dearest love, And I refuse to stop for you. Have I found god? I found many. Pan, Cernunnos, Hecate, Zeus.

They'll tell me I'll burn, Or that someday I'll convert. But the thought of leaving this behind- Inside my heart it hurts.

a distant relative in a meditation vision

You’d think after three years as a Pagan I’d be used to going through random periods where everything feels more spiritual, but I’m still not accustomed to it. Every dream has symbolism and every passing spirit is as tangible as a person. I can’t fight the urge to run down the trail to the river again. A nightmare about snakes means facing my fear of change, of shedding the past. I can feel something stronger in the air; I’m just trying to decide if my witch side is trying to protect me from recent stress, or if it’s reawakening due to the seasons. Either way, I want to run wild through the woods and let the sun kiss my face. I want to leave civilization behind.