tonight i found myself in a church, praying*
and mama mary appears.
our queen isis, sans child,
draped in beauty and light;
not concerned about praying rosaries or arbitrary sin,
but standing as an example of pure devotion and the power of magick
radiating compassion for all.
she wonders why her true name is not known
why we refuse the truth that when she is called upon
so is the goddess
so is the womb
so is the source
but, having been summoned, she only sighs
part sadness, part sweetness.
she smiles slightly at me as if to say,
"i know there are some of you out there...thank you."
and prays for us, as the prayer goes...
pitying our forgetfulness
even as she holds us in her loving arms...
*i often dream of worshipping in veiled churches...euro plaster patterns covering hieroglyphs, blood sacrifices and veves...i spy the walls peeling as the preacher preaches...