Paganistan: Notes from the Secret Commonwealth
In Which One Midwest Man-in-Black Confers, Converses & Otherwise Hob-Nobs with his Fellow Hob-Men (& -Women) Concerning the Sundry Ways of the Famed but Ill-Starred Tribe of Witches.
Many-Colored River
A Hymn to the Mississippi
Many-colored River,
Father of Waters,
to you I sing my praise.
I sing the White Mississippi,
iced-over, clad with snow.
Many-colored River,
Father of Waters,
to you I sing my praise.
I sing the Brown Mississippi,
heavy with silt of Spring.
Many-colored River,
Father of Waters,
to you I sing my praise.
I sing the Blue Mississippi,
son of the Summer Sky.
Many-colored River,
Father of Waters,
to you I sing my praise.
I sing the Golden Mississippi,
Sunset liquid fire.
Bison-horned River,
Father of Nations:
to you I sing my praise.
Comments
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Wednesday, 24 March 2021
Thanks Jamie. I quite agree with you that ignoring gods is a pretty major act of impiety. (How did piety ever get such a bad name? Piety is one of the chiefest pagan virtues.)
I suspect that, after centuries of un-paganism, we've come to think of gods as "out there" somewhere, so we stop looking for them near to hand.
Clive Lewis wrote an essay called "Your God Is Too Small." I've always thought that, contrarily, the real problem is gods that are too large. -
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Mr. Posch,
That's a fantastic prayer! I frequently pray to the local river God, and give thanks whenever I walk past.
Pagans often pray to the major Goddesses and Gods, but there's an entire chain of divinity from the household Gods right on up to the Queen and King of the universe. Ignoring the Deathless Ones who are closest to us just seems impious to me.