by Lynn Bravewomon
My/our heart beats, into the expanse of dark warm pulsing,
Spreading, reaching into the possibility, extending into and within the infinite
Living spirit in dreams, pulsing into dreams, birthing visions of the yet to come.
Into fecund darkness of our sacred seasons and always,
May our candle light be not the driver now of magic and of miracle, but a humble flickering to seekers;
A tear drop or twinkle of shekinah guiding us, calling us, connecting us to our rich source revealed through our hearts not our eyes.
May the lighting be for a blessing, a seeking, a presencing of the trail given to those to seek darkness,
May the gentle crackle of wax and the whisping of smoke as the light gives way to darkness,
Lead us upwards, and inwards, and deeper to the realm of awe inspiring possibility
That which we cannot know until our bodies still, hearts beat, our souls see…
that which souls anticipate, hope for, surrender in opening to.
The miracle of darkness, the holding/being held, the suspension and levitation, the wondering, the bringing, stillness with ecstasy, joyous purity of faith.
May each light, growing in number be our Ner Tamid to the peace and justice possible only when we hold in glory the witch healing power of our home… the dark.