Blessing by the Stag


The green of God’s life I bind unto myself this day.
The blue of The Spirit’s waters I bind unto myself this day.
The browns of Jesus’s earth I bind unto myself this day.

May the green, green grasses, wet with rain, soften my feet.
May the waters rushing down gully and stream, fill by body.
May the earth belch forth carrots, lettuce, beets and spinach to bless my blood.

Let wind whip and push my little boat off course into new lands.
Let the Great Stag snort and blow hot breath, stomping His great hoof so that the planet trembles and I remember power.
Let the midwife wash with hot, hot water the blood of birthing from my screams as something new emerges from your opening and mine.

Bless my going out, Lord of The Moors.
Bless my wound-binding, Lord of Justice.
Bless my listening, Lord of Windy Whispers.

Peace to the sad church as she contracts.
Peace to the gathering house-churches as they gather ‘round hearth and soup-pot.
Peace to the Bishops as they seek something to control.
Peace to the clergy as they mourn.
Peace to the babies born into a birthing church, new and gentle.
Peace to the God watching. Watching. Watching. Loving.

 

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