Tag: Crow Calls

This dark moon, as I do every dark moon, I journeyed to Na Morrigna to ask them for an omen for myself and other devotees. While I normally expect that the message from them will be most valuable to those closest to me in geography and practice, this time I specifically mentioned the upcoming US elections, and so this message is mainly for those residing in the US. I was shown imagery in the cauldron, given wisdom, and distilled those into this inspired poem.

Uncertainty hangs in the air
Like smoke over a grease fire
Like a shroud over a corpse

Dark greasy smoke
Of discontent
Of malevolence

Water spreads a grease fire
Fire engulfing buildings and streets
Streets that glitter with glass in the night

Crows are gathered to face the onslaught
Each poised for easy flight
Ready to do their work

One darts out
Another takes their place
The first returns to roost

Be cautious as you defend
Beware deceit and trickery
A dishonorable opponent follows no rules of engagement

Tell me of the streets of this country, Fedelm;
Tell me what outcome you see.

Red with blood and fire I see them;
I behold them bathed in red.

Be careful out there, my fellow Crows. Things will get worse before they get better. This is a time of struggle; may we find ways to make the necessary changes.

This dark moon, when I went to speak with Na Morrigna, they spoke to me of the importance of self-care to avoid burnout, the importance of continuing the fight and staying on target even as things appear to be settling down, as the ongoing struggles slip out of mainstream news cycles. Above all they stressed that the harvest would come soon. Lughnasadh is just around the corner: a time for renewed contracts, for the settling of legal disputes. A good time to clarify our purpose as we head towards Samhain, the month of November. The apple harvest is almost here, and with it will come a change, although the type of change still hangs in the balance, undecided, uncertain. One more push is needed, if we wish to reap the harvest we’ve been working for. Look to those on the peripheries for guidance as you move forward. The marginalized ones. They will know how to best achieve justice. Witches and apples have a long history, and acorns are not Macha’s only crop. There may be bloodshed yet to come, as the harvest comes in and the rents come due.

Here is a slip of a poem, inspired by my visit:

Crows gather in fields
Perching on straw men
Eating the corn

Apples ripen on trees
Dripping with syrup
Sweet-tasting deception

Poisoned apples
Bloody acorns
Swirling murders of crows

Otherworldly battles
Faction against faction
Spilling over the border

A queer wit sees more truth
The worlds entwined
A struggle for control

The people gather a harvest
Each one gets their portion
Long-due debts will be paid

This is the second dark moon since I was recalled to service, and one of many that I have served the role of messenger for Na Morrigna, messenger mainly to those whose practice is most similar and location is most proximal to my own, but perhaps the message will find resonance farther afield as well. I write because I am told to, and this small platform is as good as any – my community knows where to find me.

This time, as many others, I journeyed to my usual meeting place with Na Morrigna, the three Daughters of Ernmas. They met me there, and a fire was already lit beneath the great cauldron, though it was not full. I poured water to fill it from my own jug, and they added herbs, stirred it together until it was steaming, and then bade me look.

I saw violence, turmoil. barely contained. The water and herbs in the cauldron seethed and roiled though the surface was calm. Likewise, violence boils beneath the surface of our society. Things are tensed, straining, and something will have to give, for the pressure will not let up, cannot let up – it has gone to far, and we are past the point of turning back, past the point where we might have been able to settle it back down. We cannot stop the rising flood, though there are better and worse ways of dealing with the flood as it spills over. As a society we’ve laid poor foundations, and we have not restructured them properly or even maintained past partial fixes, and we’ll find ourselves facing disaster. A harvest of disasters, grown from poisoned seeds in unmaintained fields. I look again, deeper, and it gets clearer. I see riots, I see burning, I hear gunfire, screams, I smell smoke. It looks to my untrained eyes like war.

They tell me to say: “Do not look to the King for justice. His Ways are not Just. But those among you who are warriors, guard your communities during the turmoil. Healers, heal. Others, look to your crafts. What power will you wield in the battle to come? Not hard to say.”

Note: those last two sentences in the quoted section come from the Cath Maige Tuired, somewhat paraphrased, from when Lugh is asking each person what they will do in the battle.

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!
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.

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.

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.