For redeseeker

Hail earthy Hekate, Goddess who wears
golden sandals and a saffron cloak as you
lead lost souls out of the confusing domain
of Dream and into the crepuscular kingdom
of Haides the son of Kronos who wields
the castrating sickle and rules the Isle of the
Blessed from his high tower, you who play
with Kerberos on the shores of the river Styx
which the Gods are loathe to swear oaths upon,
and always have a friendly smile and nod
of your heads for Charon, the ferryman of the
underworld, you who often join in the Iakchos-chant
of the dead initiates who did not drink the waters
of Lethe during their journey West, and so get to
continue celebrating their sacred rites even in the
afterlife, you who do not mind the endless croaking
of the frogs in the marsh or the howls of the wolves
in the woods who long to gaze once more upon the
face of the Moon who does not visit the world below
and its denizens, like Empousa the terrifying cobbled
together creature whom you share your suppers with,
Hekate who visits the Hecatoncheires and wonders
about your Titanic kin whom they are charged
with watching over in the limitless darkness and cold
of Tartaros their prison, and how things were before they
went to war with Zeus and the young Gods and suffered
their present fate, though it didn’t have to be this way.
O Hekate, while you are making your rounds please, I pray,
check in on my ancestors and tell them how I’m doing
and that I love and miss them dearly, O girlfriend of Hermes
the divine messenger and guide of souls, especially those caught
in the riptide of melancholy or who do not yet realize
that they are dead. Great Goddess of Thessaly who is worshiped
in cities as far apart as Lagina and Selinunte and Alexandria by Egypt,
hear my prayer and know that each Dark Moon my household
will give to you the garlic, and honey, and porridge made from
all the grains and beans in our pantry, and the other offerings
which custom dictates should be made on this occasion,
Hekate who travels the roads between the worlds.