Hermekate (A Poem/Song of Sorts)
Hermekate Hermekate Hekahermes!
We sing to you, we pray to you
We adore your glorious name
Hermekate Hermekate Hekahermes!
Your name is Life
Your name is Death
We honor your Name
Hermekate Hermekate Hekahermes!
Thou art a glorious god!
You bring us joy
You bring us strife
Eternal cycle anew
Hermekate Hermekate Hekahermes!
He is the Queen
She is the King
He brings us greatest joys
Her song is sung
In ancient tongue
By mortals fair and young
His name she laughs
His song she sings
His beauty immortal
She is the Androgyne King
He is the setting Sun
Hermekate Hermekate Hekahermes!
Our nightly prayer
Do you ever hear
Forever we shall sing
Hermekate Hermekate Hekahermes
Hermekate Hermekate Hekahermes
Hermekate Hermekate Hekahermes
To thee we cry
To thee we sigh
To thee to thee to thee!
We are your sons
Your daughters true
Your everlasting night
Has brought us endless delight
Hermekate Hermekate Hekahermes!
This song is sung
In strange Aeons
O Necromantic Voice
Who dwells in dark
Who's brightest light
Who is the dog's bark
Hermekate Hermekate Hekahermes!
Our dance is sung
For you our One
You madness bringing Lord
Dionysian Queen
Darkest Dream
We sing our song for you
And now our song is sung
Hermekate Hermekate
Hekahermes
Hermekate Hermekate
Hekahermes
Hermekate Hermekate
Hekahermes
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Goddess of the Moon,
Shine your ancient grace upon me
And take the hidden tears from my face
To transform my sorrow into everlasting peace
As glory reaches into my soul and drowns my self-doubt
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In the prologue to Spectral Evidence, Pulitzer winner Gregory Pardlo’s new collection, he writes, “This book is about the legal means by which fear is used to rationalize the persecution of people imagined to be in league with the possessed of supernatural forces. This book argues that the logic used to rationalize the prosecution of witches is the same logic that rationalizes vigilantism and police street justice.” He goes on to consider that both Black men and white women are “similarly pressed into service as both muse and monster in the Western cultural imagination,” while, at their ghostly intersection, the patriarchy is haunted by “the omnipresent but rarely named” Black woman.
One iconic example, brought forth in these shimmering poems of the self as shaped by (and shaping) American history, is Tituba, the only woman of color to be accused in the Salem witch trials.
Occult
Zero your scales to the burden of a lash, Dear
Justice, but let Tituba clumsy the Magistrates’
minds with a wag of her wizened index. A flight
risk near forests of the Wampanoag where Christians
savaged Queen Weetamoo’s corpse, what else might
Tituba, nonwhite and woman, haunt but a margin
of error? She’s a catbird’s song trapped in the chimney.
She’s egg whites in water, she is the tumescence
of smoke. Dear Mami Wata, let Tituba prove
to be the stone that splits the stream of their vision.
Let her renounce sight and be unseen. Let her
cough ground coral in the shedding of a pewter
moon, that she, of all the innocents, should live.
Dear Three-headed Hecate, replace her, the unthought
thought, with wax, twigs, horse hair and straw. Let her
not appear as a witness. Nor as evidence. As with
the talking dog, let her be the hoodoo that speaks
through their mirrors. Let a hang-thread skein of yarn
ghost the floorboards tempting a red cat—his familiars,
the devil and his counsel, the canary. Let her conjure
the man in black they fear who charms pilgrims
on the road to paradise, disguised as a harmless
birdwatcher. Dear Nemesis, let her feed the court
a few names from his register—a taste of her
truth, her mise en abyme, her one hell that calls forth
another. With no standing on her own behalf,
let her sit in judgment. Let this power
invested of gavel and oath help her give birth
through her mouth like a god.
More on this book and author:
Learn more about Spectral Evidence by Gregory Pardlo.
Browse other books by Gregory Pardlo and follow him on Twitter @pardlo.
Click here for a special NYPL recording of Imani Perry and Gregory Pardlo in conversation about Spectral Evidence.
Visit our Tumblr to peruse poems, audio recordings, and broadsides in the Knopf poem-a-day series.
To share the poem-a-day experience with friends, pass along this link.
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So long as you feel the human contact, the atmosphere of mutual confidence, there is no danger; and even if you have to face the terrors of insanity, or the shadowy menace of suicide, there is still that area of human faith, that certainty of understanding and of being understood, no matter how black the night.
~Carl Jung, CW 17, Para 181
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and winter rises in me like one in love [...]
Alejandra Pizarnik, Selected Poems: A Musical Hell; from ‘Those from the Occult’, tr. Cecilia Rossi
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Rediscovering the Dark Splendor of Gustave Doré with Edgar Allan Poe
//Edgar Allan Poe's "The Raven" illustrated by Gustave Doré
The Raven. The poem tells the story of a nameless narrator as he laments the loss of his lover, Lenore. As the poem’s narrative unfolds, the narrator’s mental health gradually deteriorates as he is repeatedly visited by a talking raven. The magical bird never fails to remind his conversation partner: the relationship between he and Lenore is “Nevermore.”
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Living flame, Shadowy Asteriá
The visage, the brilliance
Into my mind, my spirit
Etched-burned
Secret spark
Divinity?
Spirit unfurling-alight; tears flow still
Something revealed-ignorant I remain
Quaking
Whom?
Whom?
Lead
I will follow
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you summon me in your dreams
when the moon is high
and your esoteric hands
drift between your thighs
you incant unholy words
as I take form in your sheets
my arms around your hips
my kiss around your heat
you bind me to your flesh
and order me to please
sinful sacraments
occult rites between your knees
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Cross the bones, thread the shade
Eyes seek truth, now unmade
Open jaw, sight stretched wide
Life consumed, breath denied
| GARDEN OF MAGICK | Drawtober day 1-5
Let the spooky season commence!
💀 PATREON | Instagram | Twitter | Prints |
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Pisces. The ruler of dreams and fish and sweet nightmares.
Kaleidoscopic flesh, a pearly soul,
May the small ocean children keep me afloat,
May they keep me from the depths of the cold.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
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