Speak to me, oh Wise One, about the winter. The nights are so long and cold. Why cannot it always be spring? Then, my child, when would seeds lay dormant, storing energy for their future growth? When would nature have a chance to rest and prepare for its next cycle? When would the bear sleep to renew its strength. And how would we know warmth if not cold to compare it to? Oh Great Healer, why must there always be change? Each time I think I am safe I loose my footing and fall into a spiral of fear from which I struggle to escape.
My beloved, if it were not for change
you would be like a planet that did not revolve
around its sun; to remain always in darkness.
Like a wave that never breaks against the shore.
You would be like a fruit that never ripens to its sweetness.
Like the rose that never blossoms to its fullest beauty.
But Crone, tell me of death.
Why must we die and leave behind all that we love?
My child...
We experience many deaths in our lifetimes.
If this were not so....
how then would we know God?
Rosemarie Ceraso ©
Artist ~ Frank Howell