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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Posted by on in Culture Blogs

 

Och, I keep screwing up the prayers. I keep forgetting that it's Winter now.

Temple worship has its own style, like set prayers. But even set prayers don't always stay the same.

Red Coat crowned with antler

(in winter: blue)

that sit cross-legged in the Mother's heart

(or: womb),

to you, to you, my Stag,

I make my prayer.

 

Oh, well. Give me another few days; eventually I'll get it right. We've got a lot of Winter ahead.

 

Blue Coat crowned with antler

(in summer: red)

that sit cross-legged in the Mother's heart,

and womb,

to you, to you, my Stag,

I make my prayer.

 

 

 

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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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