A Poetic Ritual of Surrendar

I wrote this ritual as a first step in dealing with addiction, (change, loss) the idea being that in order to move forward we must first surrender but (sometimes) in order to surrender we need to release. Sometimes releasing the shadows that hold us back is difficult, to say the least. I wrote this ritual to help facilitate this movement in this stage on the spiral while acknowledging it's depth, darkness and light.

A basic alter is set up.

North:Earth & Stones
East: Candles, Red
South: Water, Blue
West: Feathers & Smoke (Smudge)
A bowl of offering what one is surrendering can be present.
A Poetic Ritual of Surrender.


The day begins in the north.

I face the mountains at midnight and allow

the voices of my grandfathers to speak through the wind.

Ears open to breath

heart grounded to earth

I light the communication stick.

(I will smudge)

With a swift inhale and jilted exhale

you answer questions I have yet to form.

With images sweet soft and trusting

I tremble and shake like a bad caffeine high.

The taste starts like a crescendo a muted whisper that slowly builds grandeur

with each movement in the midnight air.

Deep and dark black

I welcome it

for what it is.

New fresh pure untouched bliss

holly with it's child like awe.

And still I tremble with the fragrance of original sin on my tongues tip.

The day begins.

On hands and knees I crawl

Forgetting the days that have lead up to this moment

I become infantile.

Close to the earth I relay on her nourishment

rolling in weeds and again forgetting.

Then from that forgotten sense of space and depth he begins to peak from the horizon.

Forming from the dark.

And as he starts too climb so do I.

Remembering slowly how to stand on knees then

one foot

then both.

Rhythm comes then full movement.

Freedom and longing surface at once
But I am distracted.

By bright piercing red orange light

(here I will light candles in the direction of East)

light

light

light.

Swaying like moving

dancing like breathing

feeling like nothing

but red orange fire.

I'm ignited.

With this Eye opening bliss of re birth re life re living.

(something with water will be done here)

Hot Warm Thirsty
thirst so thick
any concoction will do
as long as the outcome is
numbing forgetting happiness.

Cornered in the back
she asks me what my daemons are and where I keep them.
biting my lip i try to play dumb and flirt my way
out of truths grasp.

Claiming my daemons are few and far,
cute gift wrapped packages
I store alphabetically in a freezer lot, just north of my lips.
I force my eyes to sparkle and pretend.

She hiiiisssssssssssssss
and growls and grunts
flashing her teeth and sneeeeerrrrring
she reminds me
This pretended lie is futile
when grace is inevitable.

light blue mist

cools me.

As I lay at her banks

and allow her to wash me clean.

Of taste of blood of fear

And still I weep for lose.

of taste of blood of fear

Surrendering is never easy

just surreal and lucid.

Bellowing and beckoning with fertile hands she asks for my release.

And I succumb.

(here I will drum)

I awaken weak
wrapped again
in her warm blankets
of brush and leaves
cedar and forest scents fill me.
I am quiet
still
and
content.

As I watch him sink in the horizon
Loosing my desires
and sinking myself deep into her body
allowing my mother and grandmothers
to carry my weight, my burdens and my gifts.

Hovering between sleep and solitude
I surrender to the West again.
the end...

Here I will blow out all the candles and close the directions.