Mother’s Night
Dec 20, solstice eve
Mother’s Night
Those who taught us how to walk softly now walk where the forest thins.
It’s the eve before winter solstice. Mother’s Night. I honor my ancestors and my feminine divine. All those who came before. Who marked the path, in ways big and small. Who gave their breath for me to live. I offer my abiding love and devotion. My endless gratitude. Tomorrow we begin the walk to the light, but do not forget: we come from the sacred dark and we carry it with us always.
So tonight, we do not ask. Tonight we acknowledge. Tonight we honor. This is the quiet before the quiet. The pause before the turning.
I offer this to my ancestors, the mothers I can name and all the ones I cannot. To the quiet hands that steadied the world so I could arrive. To the feminine divine, fierce, gentle, enduring.
I offer this image of my mother. One of the last of her before she died, I remember she laughed at the silly filter. But it is actually not silly at all. It is perfect. Perfect and beautiful and true. Deer Mother Goddess. Here she is, soft, knowing, unafraid.
My mother, your mother, all the mothers, they say to us tonight you are not alone. This path has been walked before. So step surely, little moon. I am near.
Let us sleep tonight, wrapped in that lineage, cocooned by the liminal. Our ancestors stand watch so we may rest.