Priesthood of the Ashes

Some thoughts here I think are especially relevant to the Morrigan, and my work with her.

Call of the Syren

The man placed a line of gray ash from the sacred firepit upon my forehead, above the bright sindoor red bindi he had marked me with in Kali’s temple. I felt a shudder of energy release memories of past and future; a layer of old self replaced by a new layer of meaning. There was fire behind my eyes, gray of ash and red of blood. In that instant the gravity of the experience I had just received in the temple, the shrines I had visited marking patterns of a deeper mystery, began to transform me.

* * *

She came roaring in a cloud of ash, bright flashing blade and lolling tongue. Slice, chop, red palms to hungry skulls, CRACK. Here, my child, You Are.

* * *

The boat was rocking so softly as I took my place on the very edge, toes just touching the surface of…

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Author: Morag

Morag Spinner is a writer, a witch, and an activist (sometimes all three) living in British Colmbia, Canada. Zie's fat and genderqueer, and zie crafts all manner of things, from spell jars to duct tape bags to shawls to blankets to random bits of kitsch. Zie's obsessed with chocolate and listens to far too much Evanescence.

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