wildbeewitch:

I feel like some of the discussion of Morrigan tends to lump her in with European or Norse ideas of war deities and she’s just so different. She’s arguably not even a war deity in the traditional sense.

The Morrigan rarely fights herself. She’s a talker and a planner and a prophet and poet.

She inspires heroes and sets up leaders.

She’ll go in disguise to judge your merit.

She’ll appear like a monster to test your resolve.

It’s not a case of not fighting, but choosing the moment carefully.

She crosses between this world and the next. She knows death, knows what the cost of fighting can be.

She knows the power of words in battle.

phoenyxoftheashes:

I pray to Brighid, Airmed, and Miach: heal those affected by white nationalism, racism, and anti-Semitism

I pray to Lugh, the Dagda, and Ogma: give us the skills to fight Nazis, and defeat them and their hatred

I pray to Manannan Mac Lir: cloak and protect everyone affected by white nationalism, racism, and anti-Semitism

I pray to Flidais: provide encouragement to those who counter-protest and fight back against the hatred produced by Nazis

I pray to Nuada: lead us in battle against the Nazis taking over our country.

I pray to Na Morrigna, the sisters of war: provide us with the strength to endure these horrifying times. Provide us with strength to fight back.

lightningskissed:

My mighty temple stands

Handcrafted carefully

By hands both skilled and novice

Perfect and imperfect.

A monument of hubris

But also resignation.

Those who build it

Form the sacrifice temple

With fingers and palms burning

Under the hot sun.

A perfect form

They accept is fleeting.

Crafted of the miniscule

Tiny crystals and shells

Bits of forgotten

Shards of bone

Shimmering

In the light.

This is my temple of crystal

My shrine of bone

My monument of death and life

My scraps of the cast off

My remembrance of birth giving

My compelling call of life taking.

It is a sacrifice temple

Build without mortal

Build without permanance

And I will devour it.

And it might take but one crashing bit of water and foam

Or maybe two or three

And my mighty temple

The sacrifice temple

The liminal, tide zone

Glass and shell temple

Will fall to me

And become a part of my being.

My mighty temple stands.

jaclcfrost:

make no mistake i love the ocean with my whole heart but deep water terrifies me so much.. what’s goin on down there? nothing i want to be a part of

wraithlings:

“The mists are part of the ancient paraphernalia –
Souls, rolled in the doom-noise of the sea.”

— Sylvia Plath, “Finisterre”, from Selected Poems.