Entry 21 – Berkana & Sowilo






There is birth.  There is life.  There is death.  There is rebirth.  The goddess among the branches watches.    We think, “Terrible mother.”




We rush willfully away seeking victory under the sun.  The sun rises.  The sun burns.  Where is the victory?  


The greenwoman looks on the meadow and silently smiles knowingly as only a mother can.  


The sun has risen.  The sun has burned.  The sun sets.  


In darkness we wait for sunrise.  Our flesh burns in the night waiting, lost til dawn.  At the slight of light we fear the coming burning sun.   


By the fire peaking over the hills, we willfully return to the branches and from the burn as we surrender below the shading mother.  
There is birth.  There is life.  There is death.  There is rebirth.

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