Night Terrors at 3am

This is poem is part of the series, it should be the second in order which is Cinnamon Sunset, Night Terrors at 3am, Silence Before Sunrise and the 4th one is not yet written.

Night Terrors at 3am
by DG

This Voice whispers that you will die alone, unloved,
never to find success,
its tones drip with venom,
twisting and wrapping you into a fearful victim.

Maybe it originated with the taunt of a classmate,
the disapproving lecture of a parent,
the criticism of a boss, demeaning your performance,
the insult meant in jest by a friend,
the increasing bills that pile up, as finances drain dry.

Confidence withers away as wicked self deception becomes
ingrained to a belief.
The alarm clock reads 3 am and you dread going to work the next day,
where you toil for the advancement of others, in servitude to them, while your own soul
slowly dies and diminishes.

The dying embers of the candle flame flicker,
faith dwindling to a spark,
doubt creeps in as you think that he is apathetic to your love, your silent pleas to the gods unanswered
as you fear the very angels themselves turn away deaf to your prayerful supplications.

The very thought of the sunrise hurts you,
because you once basked in its glow of love,
now the memory of it lingers and festers.
In the vigil of insomnia you wait,
as terror and confusion cripple, slithering and snaking their way into your heart.
The dawn seems so far off and cannot be faced for fear that its light burns to bright.

Thanksgiving

I tend to think of the Pagan holidays of Lammas and Mabon as my Thanksgiving or harvest festivals. Still growing up with this American tradition, I always remember the great food and time with family.
For the indigenous people of this land, Thanksgiving is a National Day of Mourning. They welcomed the European settlers, gave them food, only to be betrayed and have their lands taken away as the centuries of imperial conquest continued, first with the Europeans and then continued by the United States.

On this day, I honor the First People of the Americas, the people who came here 14,000 years ago. I honor the spirits of the African slaves, who were forcibly dragged across the ocean to replace the Native Americans as labor. It is a vicious cycle that we still are seeing the effects today, as both Natives and people of color are still experiencing the suffering that was inflicted upon them by the rape and pillage of the Americas.

I give thanks to the Creator, the Divine Mother and Father of All Life for all of His/Her blessings, for the challenges, for the victories, for the moments both bitter and sweet.

"The Great Spirit is in all things, he is in the air we breathe. The Great Spirit is our
Father, but the Earth is our Mother. She nourishes us, that which we put into the ground
she returns to us..."
-Big Thunder (Bedagi) Wabanaki Algonquin

La Magia

Whilst walking around my town, I noticed the beauty of the autumn leaves. They sounded crisp under my feet. Beautiful reds, oranges and yellows. I thought to myself that even though I am initiated as a priest of the orisha, by my ancestral blood I have ties to witchcraft and paganism. It speaks to a different part of my soul. There are similarities of course, there are similarities between many religions and spiritual traditions, yet they are different. I thought of the New Moon tomorrow and the magic and hope that it always brings. Sometimes I think in this chaotic and often brutal world we live in, the world could use a bit more magic, a bit more wonder. It's there, maybe we just get too caught up to see it. That feeling of hope despite when things seem to be closing in all around you, the belief that you can shape and breath life into your very dreams. It's the green grass and the glorious Full Moon in the sky. It's the snow in wintertime and the balmy breezes of summer. It's the kiss on a first date under a starlit sky.
I was thinking of my life a year ago and how different it is today. I still struggle with many difficulties but I feel so much more stronger and better equipped to deal with these challenges. No matter what I feel held in the arms of God, and Her arms are always wrapped around me.
Blessed Be.

All Souls Day

Happy All Souls Day/Feliz Dia de los Muertos! Without the Ancestors, we would not exist and their wisdom is needed in this day and age more than ever. I made a small altar for the Ancestors in my kitchen. Modupe Egun!