I have been recalled early. For two years, I served as an oracular priestess of the Morrigna, the Daughters of Ernmas, every Dark Moon from Lughnasadh until Imbolc. But I find myself called back to duty before Beltaine this time.
I imagine many of you are finding the same to be true. If you have been on standby, consider this your activation, your incitation. If you have been doing Their Work, you may find you are being called to work Deeper, to work more Often, to work more Directly.
But first, the message:
You are surrounded by a sea of lies, deceit, delusions of imposterhood, illusions that things will, or can, ever be “normal” again. Swim to shore. Wave-chariots will carry you if your stroke falters. Reaffirm your commitment to change, to the Work. Reaffirm your commitment to me, and join me and the Crow Fianna on shore. Regroup your squadrons. Make plans. Be ready. More work is coming, more change is coming, more tests of will are coming. You are prepared. Be ready for the Call.
I suggest you all make witchy go-bags and carry them with you, or put them in a place in your home you can get to easily and begin quickly, if you suddenly feel that you need to act. Get in contact with your closest allies in your community, whether locally or online. If you feel called to work together, do that. If you feel called to work alone, do that. If you’re not sure: ask, and LISTEN.
They asked me to end with one of their poems, a rosc from the Cath Maige Tuired, translated by Morgan Daimler:
Arise, kings to battle here!
Daimler leaves the missing word untranslated, but the image I was given when I asked indicated terrain, which Morpheus Ravenna discusses on pg 145 of The Book of the Great Queen. I’ve also broken up the lines here to fit the rhythm communicated to me. I don’t claim that either of those additions are “more correct”, but it does seem to be the way Na Morrigna would like them to be presented here and now, for Their own reasons.
Seizing honor,
speaking battle-spells,
destroying flesh,
flaying, snaring,
seizing battle [plains]*,
seeking out forts,
giving out a death feast,
fighting battles,
singing poems,
proclaiming druids collect tribute
around in memory.
Bodies wounded in a rushing assault,
pursuing, exhausting, breaking,
prisoners taken,
destruction blooms,
hearing screams,
fostering armies battle,
occupants moving,
a boat sails,
arsenal cuts off noses.
I see the birth of every bloody battle,
red-wombed, fierce,
obligatory-battlefield,
enraged.
I suppose I’ll be seeing you all next Dark Moon. In the meantime, please do not hesitate to reach out, especially for my usual offerings on Their behalf: distance energy healing, and divined guidance.