Wiccan Poems

Gather in Circles

We should gather in tribes
at dawn spiderwebs still
caught on our faces dance
our thanks turn up our palms
toward the sun work
our muscles carving wood
make knives cut through ripe
fruit split stones
We should circle fires at dusk
salty skin stamping our bones
into dirt jump toward the moon
entangle each other's body
sweaty from the dance full
after spicy dishes and we know
how love works

by Violet

Once The Shaman's Cat

from an ancient brother
of the earth and sky,
he comes each night
to the foot of my bed.
His presence is pietistic
in the hour of the wolf,
tucked small, eyes clenched
in spectral consultation.
Medicine wisdom
perceives the ache
in my bones--he prescribes,
then lightly creeps
to the area in question
and lies down on the pain.
His chant is like the vibration
of a distant fire dance
drawing out the evil,
expecting no more return
than to share the heat
of the living.

by Harry Thomas Brashear


Grand Master of the Faerie Faith, from his forthcoming book

My thoughts are petals
floating on the serene lake
of inner selfhood.

For Emperor Hirohito

The pearl of our hearts
shines with Amaterasu
yet his light remains.

Silently clapping
one hand without the other
what a waste of time.

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The 3rd Road is Francesca's branch of Faerie Tradition, Wiccan school and community.