The Year’s Longest Night
It was dark and cold within the middle of the forest. It was not a forest on this plain, but one in the hearts of our souls and in the chambers of our minds. Within the middle of this dark cold forest was a old log cabin blanketed by snow and frost. With in the cabin was a roaring fire and lighted candles, the cabin was warm and dry and full of warm animal furs spread about on the floor and bed. The cabin smelled of pine and spices and a touch of warm rum.
The old women sat at the dressing table looking into the mirror slowing brushing her long white hair. The Crone’s hands were pale and wrinkled and her face as pale and cold as the snow outside. She closed her eyes and breathed in the smell of pine from the tree she had brought in from the winters cold and the incense burning and smoking on the Yule log gave her soft warm visions. The Crone saw her future; she saw her hair turning a light brown and her eyes giving off a bright twinkle. Youth would return and the Wheel would turn and spin–turn and spin. With her hands still brushing through her hair she saw herself young again a Maiden–waiting to dance with the young Lord Bright Sun/Son and Lord of the Dance.
Mama Crone saw her Maiden belly swell with life and as the Mother gave birth to the spring– to flowers and trees and animals and to the very heavens gave it a new shine. This future was to be soon, but not too soon. The longest night must come and Winter must play it’s self out as the Sun grows stronger day by day. The Dark Mother looked to her crown of thorns and bones and in her mind’s eye saw the green of spring a yellow of flower spring from it. The Old One rose from her chair and thought “not yet” and put on her crown of thorns and bones and pulled her cloak closed and pulling up the hood tight around her face she went to the cabin door. She pushed open the door and went to the forest clearing taking slow steps chanting as she walked and sat by a prepared bon fire. Mama Crone sat in front of the fire and slowly rocked calling to the Sun–calling to the Light Of The World to return–calling for the new beginning to come and the new cycle to come–the wheel to spin– the seasons to move–the dark to retreat and the light to come. The blessings to come.
May in the forest of your heart the old cry out to the new the old change with the coming Sun–the coming of the new. Blessings called from your heart for yourself and others. Cry out to the new with hope and prayers and good tidings. Blessings to you and yours in this season of joy and change.
by Endora
Witches Of The Craft® 