I am a Child of the Wildwood

a prayer to Cernunnos

Deep within the Forest’s depths
Sits a being of great wise power
His voice of bass does carry
In prayer upon the hour

Around him sit the animals
The creatures of the wood
They sit in peace around this God
All manner of them would

His voice attracts all attention
One cannot avoid its tune
And even if one can’t find Him
They’ll listen to Him soon

He is the Wildwood’s Lord
Man speaks His name in awe
Traveling from the lips of the hunter
To those above the law

Though many fear His power
I am not as such
For I travel the Forest at peace
I His curses will never touch

For I am a child of the Lord
A wild child untamed
The God’s beloved am I
My free heart forever unclaimed

They know me as a spirit
A child from beneath the trees
My feet forever running
And my laughter in the breeze

I do not fear the Wild God
I call upon Him with care
For His children can’t be broken
And His world we all must share

Pray now to the great Horned One
With his robe of the deepest green
And ask for a heart of courage
So that your love for Him is seen

Be proud to be His child
One dearest to His heart
Sharing the soul of the Wildwood
And knowing we’ll never be apart.

How does a mother comfort her daughter who is terrified she will be shot by the police just for being black? There is no denying or avoiding what is happening in our country. My daughter hears about violence and racism from friends and on the news. She experiences racism first hand from the people around her. We must talk to her about it. It’s not developmentally appropriate to discuss these matters with her. She’s only 11 years old. But black and brown children in our country don’t get the privilege of being sheltered from such matters. Their bodies and souls are threatened. We parents have to teach them how to live with that, no matter what color we are. 

I once believed I would figure out a way to teach my daughter about racism without letting her internalize it. I fear that is not possible, but I am trying not to give up hope. The truth is that she already knows that no matter how smart, kind, funny, musical, and charming she is, in some instances people will judge her harshly just because she is black. Nor should she have to be smart, kind, funny, musical, or charming to be safe. That should be an inalienable right.  

I told her we are working to help the police learn to be more careful. I told her she is precious no matter what anyone else might say or do. Everything I said seemed inadequate. The best I could do was hold her through the worst of it; offer my own body up to her as a shield of love and pray for her safety. Pray that no matter what she suffers, goodness will come out of it. Then my prayers turned to myself–that I would see how to contribute toward making this world better, not only for her, but for all people. I considered writing about this heart-breaking time we spent together this afternoon as a starting place. 

When I asked my daughter if I could blog about this experience, she said, “OK Mommy, but it can’t have any jokes in it. It has to be only sad this time.” I usually read her my blogs that are about her before I post them. I am embarrassed to say, I couldn’t get through this one without crying. I don’t want her to feel responsible for my own fear, but sometimes it slips out. 

Да духовная жизнь сложная, она требует глубокого смирения, рассудком её не поймешь, а постигается только опытом, кто старается жить по совету святых Отцов.

Схиигумен Иоанн Валаамский

Not sure why it deleted it so here it is again because IT’S SUPER IMPORTANT GUYS
This is my friend’s cousin, Marden. He lives in Germantown, Maryland and has been missing since December 18th. Please share this photo to help him be found safely. Prayers are much needed as well. Thank you.


Can you? Can you wipe out that much red? Your ledger is dripping, it’s gushing red, and you think saving a man no more virtuous than yourself will change anything? This is the basest sentimentality. This is a child at prayer… Pathetic! You lie and kill in the service of liars and killers. You pretend to be separate, to have your own code, something that makes up for the horrors. But they are a part of you, and they will never go away.