Death of Spring, Ostara

I don’t need anyone to understand this message. I just need people to read it. Once upon a time, there was a Goddess who could manifest anything she desired. She was growth, compassion, love, and understanding. She could be anything for all people. Along the way, she hurt others. It wasn’t intentional. It was an act created out of the fear of failing the surrounding people.

She asked herself, “How could I help everyone without hurting them?”

There was just silence that met her answer. She was cold, alone, and dark on the inside.

The next day the Goddess tried to plant seeds in infertile soil. She cried for the little lives who would never see the sunshine, bloom in the wind, and dance with the bees.

It scared her.


She knew there was no way to ride this tide without medicating herself and doing whatever was necessary to protect herself.

Still, the people suffered.

She wanted to heal everyone around her.

A voice told her, “YOU CAN’T DO IT!”

It was someone she loves, a mother with proud eyes. Someone she respected plugged the rug out from under the poor Goddess. And what they plugged up released.

It was a free fall.

The other Gods told her she was all right.

She wasn’t.

There was an injustice in the world. A miscarriage of the law.

Somewhere, a baby was dying. And this Goddess of creation couldn’t stop it.

She would be damned if she would quit. Death could carry her to a threshold.

So she dies. Surrendering to the night.

She faces the darkness head-on. It’s like a drug. It can sustain her. She isn’t alive anymore; she is DEATH.

They call her a different name. Instead of the OH STAR, she is the KALL EE.

She dances so much, the tears and snot flying in all directions.

She succumbs to the winter, releases the son, and writhes in agony under the ice.

She is raped by medication, by the shadows, and the forgotten memories. And finally, her best friend dies. Her mind and moral compass.

She is in the liminal. The KEEPER OF THE KEYS, oh Hek, a, te.

She can go anywhere. LAND, AIR, SEA…Or she can thrive in a cave in the underworld with garlic and little black dogs.

However, she sees a girl being raped. Running in fear. She holds out the torch, shelters the girl, and tells her to run. She encounters her mother, desperately searching for her in every morgue, emergency room, and hotel. Hekate brings comfort.

Now she is angered that her absence has only made things worse.

Where is life? Where is Happy Swamp? Where are her deep ROOTS?

So she conjures a new reality.

A butterfly, the soul of a lost child, speak for her.

“You have the sun sickness.” He says.

“Am I dying?” Asks the formless.

“If you want to die, you can… or you could CHOOSE LIFE because you always HAVE A CHOICE.”

“I want to live, who would help me?” She cries into the endless night of her own soul’s winter.

“I would!” Answers a candle.

“I WOULD!” cried the bell.

“I WILL TRY!” Writes the book.


“What am I?” Whinnies the Unicorn as it breaths its last breath.

“This is a process,” continues the elephant with concern, looking at his own broken tusk. “Sacrifice isn’t easy.” He reassures.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone, I’m just a baby.” Flutters the shy butterfly.

“Does anyone know a witch doctor?” Asks the Loa, as he shed a Tyr.

“I do!” Offers Saint Death.

“Help this child, keep her away until it’s done.” Requests the judge.

“Help me…” The unicorn reaches for the star in vain.

“We will.” The Tribe answers.

“I just want my old life back…” She gasps in the throes of death.

“Make it so,” He tells the young Captain. “And drink some tea, earl grey, hot.”

The Goddess sips her medicine, taking in the sparkle at twilight.

A twinkle.

“Am I pregnant?” Asks the Alicorn.

“Yes child,” Assures the Apple tree. She’s a grandmother, she’s seen this before. She gives the Goddess a cloak of feathers and garnet.

“I feel Freya,” She trembles.

“Not yet, get ready to push.” Says the doctor, he looks surreal, like an emergency hologram.

“Now?” She whimpers like a little black dog.

“Almost,” says One-Eyed King. He’d been away so long. “I rarely make house calls, however, they called my number while I was upside down in the shower. It’s 9-1-1.”

“FLAP YOUR WINGS!” Roared the butterfly from her cocoon. Life was going in reverse. It was like an episode backward and forward.

“YOU ARE THE ALICORN! YOU ARE THE GUARDIAN OF THE ROOTS!” Screamed the black dragon with one sooty horn.

“COME BACK TO US, QUILLIE!” Urged the Nurse, she looked so strong she could toss boulders with her mind and will.

They inspired the Goddess.

“THESE PEOPLE LOVE ME!” Her heartbeat. The wings emerged from the crystals.

“Yes we do,” Urged the Cheshire Cat, “You don’t have to fix everyone… just yourself.”

“I can’t see!” She shrieked in fear.

“I am the darkness, I am your mother, you can CALL LEE.” Durga prodded.

“IT’S TIME!” Q looked towards Buddha. “GIVE HER YOUR STRENGTH.”

The baby was born, bloody and gross.

A curious dark passenger looked at her.

A laugh.

A Faerie was born.

A curious creature, not male or female. She looked at the bunny holding the corn. So many colors, emotions like a paint palette, and the world her canvas. She had a quill to write and a horn to protect. Butterfly wings and stars for eyes. She was new to this family, so rooted deeply.

She was alive.

She is spring.

Take care of who you can, and enjoy the rest for yourself. SO MOTE IT BE, PAGANS! FIND YOUR HOMELAND!!!





Published by Shining Quill of Deeply Rooted

I've been dedicated to Paganism and Earth Magick for 18+ years since Mabon 1999. I am a writer, an artist, and a student of nature.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: