#devotational poetry

[dionysianmystery]

Oh Grief! Grief, Grief-

Howl inside my breast

Drag your raking claws through my eyes

Hear me beg, hear me pray

And deny me at your door

An unwanted and unexpected guest.

Where have you taken my daughter, she cries?

As if she can be fast enough

Faster than the swiftest winds to find her,

Beg her return,

Tear asunder with grief from inside again.

Oh Grief! We are laid outside your home

We are a thousand lands away

We are bereft.

She is gone.

[dionysianmystery]

Demeter, the blackened one

How often I sing your praises

And more often I feel your love

The trees that blossom and the produce I see bloom

And most often, I am sure

Others say such things too.

But dear mother Demeter, it is a different thing that I praise today

Invoked or not, you were with me

When after so long, it was revenge-

Against that terrible thing that had taken so much from me.

It was you who was with me then, fury-eyed Demeter

In my fear and sudden fright, it was you

Who made my blood lurch forward

And gave me strength of rage.

For Ares may know war, and Themis justice

But only you, Demeter of the razor sharpened grain, of withering winter loss

Only you have lost as I

And only you have beheld revenge for it

[dionysianmystery]

Apollo, that which burns the sun

The healer, the one thrice armed

With arrows and lyre

Held up high with dear Helios whom we too love.

You are here when I beg your aid,

When I pray for the healing of those I love

That through you, too, Asclepius might be moved.

You are here too when I grieve

For mortals eyes cannot see what you do

Though you try to aid me there as well

And I know it is out of love for me.

And so now, Apollo of the Gleaning,

I give my thanks to you

For I know often your favor, and often more your love

And through this prayer, I send these things in return

To you, Apollo Phoebus, once more

[dionysianmystery]

Ares, wrath like irons

Your tender hand which burns to violence

Sheltering those that beg your aid.

Rally the weak and flash away the strong-

My blood thrums with you and your rage

My gods’ arms encircle me as a shield;

But your spear is what I need now

To reach out beyond and strike down my foe

From the heavens like a plague of arrows

From the ground like the thorns of trees.

Sharp my wrath is, dulled by the blade.

Ares! Cut upon the reeds!

Make the rivers rush rapid through the ground,

Slick with the rains of your rage

And make few my sorrows with each strike

Of your spear, your bronze

Your eyes, shining as fire.

[dionysianmystery]

Aphrodite of the sands,

How sweet the embrace of love proves to be.

How the lovers meet and with a kiss depart,

How tender your gaze is upon us.

But a mourning heart cries out like the dawn

Searching for the half of them that sets at dusk.

Aphrodite, your voice of laughter

There is a stitch upon my breast

And from it pours the wine of grief and longing

That red sea that surely you must know well

The sorrow of lovers, torn apart.

Sweet Aphrodite, tender as the sky

Please hear my prayer and my honey-suckled words

To bring my love back to me is all I ask

To feel my love with me once more.

And with my prayer I beg your aid,

Oh ever-loving Aphrodite, beautiful and kind