About a quarter-year ago, my friend Christine was asking around for a pagan baby blessing. She’d been looking for one for a while, and hadn’t had any luck.
So I wrote one for her. Because that’s usually how these pieces of folklore come to be — someone makes a gossamer sculpture of sounds and words, because a light is coming into the world. That gossamer thing of breath and soul then spreads its wings abroad, and takes flight.
for Christine and their grandchildren
Little child, be welcome to this place, thou creature of earth and sea and moist air! For we delight to see you, face to face — with you, the gifts of life and time we share: the mortal span of days; the bright clear Moon; the heart-beat in the chest; the hum of nerves; the creak of flesh and bone; and the Sun's noon; the routines of work and play — and sudden swerves of both joy and grief, of love and surprise, awe of the green earth, and Great Ocean's waves — They'll drum in your ears, reflect in your eyes, and press upon your skin for all your days. By this, in time, you'll know your inner light — undying soul that's never yet known night.