As many of you are aware, the Assembly of the Sacred Wheel holds an annual Festival of Hecate ritual. I have been a bit behind this week with school keeping me much too busy (see previous post), so I have for you something I wrote that was inspired by one year's Hecate ritual. In this writing, Hecate tells the story of the abduction of Persephone from her point of view. I hope you enjoy it!
I was in my cave, contemplating the depth and darkness of it all when I heard the Maiden’s screams. By the time I emerged from within, the ground had already swallowed the Kore up, Hades taking Her down into His dark realm. Oh, I am not known as Mother by Many, but I am Nurse to all, and I wept at her abduction. I could see the way the hooves and wheels of Hade’s carriage had scraped up the grass, carving out the soil of Demeter’s good and gentle earth. This was a dark day, a dark day indeed. Lying sadly on the broken ground was a bloom ripped from where it had been planted. As I stared at it, it withered and shriveled. Ah. I knew. It had been merely a device to attract the Maid’s attention, created by the Dread Lord himself. I am accustomed to dark, chthonic forces after all, I am one myself. But my heart wept at the transgression, the betrayal, and wondered what judgment Demeter would rain down upon the underworld.
How could any have guessed that her pain and agony would be not upon the underworld but upon the green living earth itself? There was no comforting Her, although all the Gods know I tried my very best. And how could anyone have guessed that Kore would become Persephone, a Dread Lady herself, sitting and ruling the dead, providing them with compassion they had not previously known. Perhaps she herself had died some death. Surely, the Maiden within her was gone forever. And that I understood. I am, after all, she who oversees all transitions. I guessed. I guessed at it all. I knew she was wiser then many could have known. A Maiden can find her own way if left alone by probing eyes, judgemental eyes, the eyes of the adults waiting to see what she would develop into. She rose above it all, and became Queen in hew own right. I knew she would. And when the time was right, it was I and my torches who led her from the Underworld.
People think Persephone did not have choices, that she was forced to do as she did. But this is not true, and the story became skewed in the telling. It is so much easier for people to imagine her as a victim, but she actually was a strong woman, a survivor.
And it is to the survivors that I reach my hand. The Romans would twist me, and make me into something evil, but the truth is that I have no taste for silliness, decadence and foolishness. Some might think this makes me unapproachable. But I am interested in those who live lives of truth, not in gossip, cruelty, pettiness. This is why so often I prefer my cave.
But I can be called upon. I can be remembered, and if I am approached with a sincere and open heart, my gifts are many. I grant wishes and blessings. Oh, I can curse, and I can bring the judgement of the Moon and Stars upon those who would approach me with disrespect, but this is not the role I prefer. (And I am all the more angry with those who would approach me so, woe to them!)
I am not a mother who coddles her children. But I am a mother who would hold up a light for those who wish to see. And I will always ask you if the life you are leading is a life of truth.