Paganistan: Notes from the Secret Commonwealth

In Which One Midwest Man-in-Black Confers, Converses & Otherwise Hob-Nobs with his Fellow Hob-Men (& -Women) Concerning the Sundry Ways of the Famed but Ill-Starred Tribe of Witches.

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Quest of the Rose

See that hedge of roses, now?

(Beautiful, isn't it: Rose Moon nearly upon us, and the flowers at their opening.)

They say that there's a goddess in there, sleeping.

Waiting.

Centuries she's slept, now. Maybe longer.

Why, you ask? Well, now.

Some say it was a curse. Perhaps.

Or maybe some inner call, deep within? The inner life of goddesses, who can know?

But sleeping her hundred-years' sleep she is, and waiting for one to wake her.

And maybe it's you that she waits for.

See those thorns, now. They'll draw your blood, they will. They'll tear the flesh from your bones.

But sometimes, they say, the hedge opens.

And if it should open to you, now, then do you enter in, and seek her out, there where she lies within.

And if should you find her, rouse her, but gently.

How else, but with a kiss?

 

 

 

 

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Poet, scholar and storyteller Steven Posch was raised in the hardwood forests of western Pennsylvania by white-tailed deer. (That's the story, anyway.) He emigrated to Paganistan in 1979 and by sheer dint of personality has become one of Lake Country's foremost men-in-black. He is current keeper of the Minnesota Ooser.
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Comments

  • Erin Lale
    Erin Lale Wednesday, 01 June 2016

    Sleeping Beauty, huh? Freya likes roses. :)

  • Steven Posch
    Steven Posch Thursday, 02 June 2016

    Fierce beauty.

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