Then came the winter of no wolves
The night mocked us with empty echoes
Of howling wind and haunted rain
Huddled close to heatless fires
We mourned our brothers and sisters
Having sold our souls for silence
We ran out of others to blame
And named ourselves kinslayers
We wondered who would fall next
To the fate our foolishness had wrought
The few who remained alive inside
And knowing what honor meant
Went unarmed and unclad into the night
And never returned to our hearth.
Debbie Rose
October Evening
The crystal cracks
And the serpent slips
From out of the apple grove
Into the heart of the oak
The year is newly born
And the darkness grows
The Hunt runs wild
The veil grows thin and Time
On the stone sleeps the King
Wounded, he seeks solace
In empty chains of fool's gold
Faerie forged and Faerie frail
Roses red and thistles bright
Armored arms to comfort her
The restless Queen walks the night
Clad in starlight and garden dreams
Strange winds sigh and blow
Anchored only in the evergreens
Bearing stark witness to the blood
Crossing the palms of the penitent
So sings the song of Samhain snow
Riddling rivers of depthless dreams
The Piper of Shadows has returned
Ashes to ashes, He will be paid.
Deb--The Strange-Haired Heretic in the Woods
The Hollow Hills
In deep, cold blue-black night
The empty hills sullen slumber
No longer waiting for any call
Hollows deep in dust, filled
With deeper, colder indifference
Than any iron ever offended
Or crucifix constrained
No giants rise save for industry
No heroes without press agents
Stones no longer speak nor dance
Bright Atlantis and Avalon linger
Near lost Lyoness in the waylaid
Western Sea where whales sing
Swan songs to drowned Lorelei
Moonlight sifts thin through
Atmosphere alien to the animals
Who watched my kind rise and
Slide slow and sickly towards
Obsolescence, like the Magics
We made and murdered, resurrected
Like toothless simulacra
That would rather huddle hidden
In the hollow hills than haunt them
--
Peace and roses,
Deb--The Strange-Haired Heretic in the Woods
Laughter
There are they say up high in these hills
A little holler full of shadows and secrets
Where a few stones still stand one on another
Marking a chimney's memory of ashes
And a couple of rose bushes wild with themselves
Grow thorny and sharp among the forsythia
And in the sun speckled shade of the trees no
birds
Or movement but the winds sighing disturbs the
silence
But those who've been seen strange things and tell
tales
That no one believes though they won't go there
themselves
Unless they're drunk or too young to fear like
they should
Until they come back sober, wiser and with haunted
dreams
The sweet laughter of children always fills them
with dread
For they remember the youngsters that play in
those hills
Like all kids do except that they laugh though
they have no mouths
And they see out of faces that have no eyes
--
Peace and roses,
Deb--The Strange-Haired Heretic in the Woods
Racial Memory
I've raised my sword at least once before
On this unknown, far, familiar shore
And waited with baited breath
For the landing that would mean my death
Knowing that I could not but stand
Between he ravagers and the Blessed Motherland
I look one last time at each face
Where fear and courage leave deep traces
On quest companions, lovers, friends
Honor burns and feeds the flame–
The bastards would know our names!
And Death take us in blood and grace
For we do not fear your call
But seek to stem what we cannot stop
And protect our own before we fall
Deb--The Strange-Haired Heretic in the Woods
Song of Yule
Winter whispers of weeping,
Sleeping soft, and snow
We rise to join voices
In acceptance and defiance
Of darkened skies by kindled fires
For light and warmth, remembrance
Recalling always the promise
Of Spring's sweet coming and
The absent Sun's returning:
O Oak and Ash and Evergreen Holly
Dark chases light like fools and folly
We keep the fires from rain and wind
To mind the lost Sun come home again
Great Lord heed us, Fair Lady feed us
So we dance and sing and make most jolly
Ever by Oak and Ash and Evergreen Holly
Deb--The Strange-Haired Heretic in the Woods
Storme's Prayer
I call upon the power of Light
And request that the Pattern
Hold true and be fulfilled
In all things great and small
Bring to me and mine peace for our valleys
Pleasure for our mountain tops
May love ever surround us
Like Mother's embrace
May the Sun always show us
May the Moon always guide us
And may we always be protected
From that which does not serve the Balance
This I ask by all that is holy:
By Earth that holds us
By Air that surrounds us
By Fire that drives us
By Water that birthed us
By the trees and stones
By creatures and bones
By the gods my people swear by
By the Pattern whose will
We make our own
Wind, carry my prayers
On clouds of smoke
Mists of the sea
Currents of earth
As I will
So mote it be
Deb--The Strange-Haired Heretic in the Woods
Name Gift
Give my name to the geese as they fly
Let them carry it south in the Autumn
And return it north in the Spring
Following the dances of their own inner patterns
Give my name to the sun in the morning
Let it travel east to west in a day
Touching and going beyond both horizons
In its daily ritual of rising and setting
Give my name to the trees as they grow
Let them carry it fresh in Summer's green
And sleep deep with it in Winter's night
From root in earth to leaves touching sky let it ride
Give my name to the waters as they run
In hidden wells and trickling rock mouths
To raging rivers that swell thundering tides
Let the ways of water sing my name
And when the Circle is complete of all else
Tell my name to the crackling fire
So that all I am and was and will be
Will rise to the highest notice of the Gods
In the brightest sparks and sweetest savor of smoke
