I call to Ares, strong one, swift one, clever one,
god of the impulse, god of the moment,
god of the hunch and the quick reaction,
god of the battle, god of the fight. Ares,
son of thundering Zeus and dark-eyed Hera,
few were your temples, few were your shrines, for those
who held you dearest had a grave need indeed
for your favor–the field of battle was your temple,
the blood of the slain a final offering.
From the north you came, O bold-spirited Ares;
in far-flung Thrace you made your home,
the Spartans and the men of Macedon revered you.
Ares, granter of courage, granter of strength,
granter of the will to endure, friend of the wronged
and of the vengeful, O Ares, I call to you.
Tag Archive | prayers
To Ariadne
I call to Ariadne, daughter of noble Minos
and shining Pasiphae, grandchild of bright Helios,
beloved bride of ivy-wreathed Dionysos
who bore you to Olympos and made you his wife,
by Zeus’ hand deathless and forevermore young,
to stand in the company of the blessed gods.
On ancient Crete were you born, Ariadne,
there did you take your first breath; on Naxos’ shore
did you begin your true existence at Bacchus’ side;
with him were you honored with feasts and processions,
with him did you join the dance of maenad and satyr.
In days still older, Ariadne, days so bygone
their stories shift like sand in the surf, in those days too
were you lauded, did you receive gifts of sweet honey.
Ariadne, full-hearted and wise, I call to you.
To Dionysos
I call to Dionysos, great god of the vine,
son of thundering Zeus and headstrong Semele,
loving husband of warm-hearted Ariadne.
From the east you came, old before the ancients,
throughout the elder world were you beloved;
in Naxos and Boitia were you celebrated,
in temples and in the savage wilderness,
the fleet-footed maenads running in your wake.
The sweetest, strongest wine is ever your drink;
the mind’s release, the body’s loosening, your gift.
O Dionysos; thyrsus-shaker, ivy-crowned
god, we see you in the shadows, we see you on
the edges, we see you in the haze of ecstasy,
where we know the truth of passion, where we find
the essence of our being. Bacchus, I call to you!
To Apollo
I call to Apollo, radiant and beautiful god,
son of fair Leto and lightning-wielding Zeus,
brother of swift-footed, true-shooting Artemis.
In ancient Delphi you lent your wisdom to all,
in Delos and in far-off shrines your words did sound;
across the land, in all the provinces, Phoebus,
were temples raised in your name, did men and women
gather in your honor, wreathed in sweet flowers,
words of prayer upon their lips. Many loves were yours,
bright Apollo, and many noble sons and daughters;
father of kind Asklepios, your healing hand
can cease the most poisonous of plagues. Apollo,
we see you in beauty–in art and in song,
in the perfection of numbers, in the words of poets,
in the drive toward truth. Apollo, I call to you.
To Artemis
I call to Artemis, fleet-footed bow-woman,
roamer in the woodland, wild-willed mistress of beasts,
fierce-hearted protector of young girls. Artemis,
daughter of thundering Zeus and blessed Leto,
sister of bright Phoebus, the lovely nymphs attend you.
On Delos and in Ephesos your name was spoken
with reverence and devotion; in all the lands
your temples stood, ever fragrant with sweet incense.
The creatures of the wood gather around you;
the graceful deer, the bear and the boar, all are yours.
Artemis, friend of the hunter and the fisher,
friend of mothers and midwives and all small nurslings,
friend of maidens, unfettered and free of spirit,
far-shooting goddess, goddess of the strong voice
whose words of the heart are heard, I call to you.
To Athena
I call to Athena, clear-eyed daughter of Zeus;
from his head you burst forth, all in brilliant armor,
a warrior from your first breath, born with all the skill,
all the insight, all the guile of an old warlord.
In ancient times were you well honored, goddess;
in every town your name was spoken with love
and reverence; above all in Athens, that finest
of cities, did you receive the greatest devotion.
Bold Athena whose favor falls on the brave
and on the clever, who hones the wit of the scholar
and quickens the nimble fingers of the artisan,
who offers counsel reasoned and reflective,
farsighted builder of cities who leads humanity
toward concord and community, granter of
the gift of civilization, I call to you.
To Hades
I call to Hades, lord of the dusky underworld,
lord of the dead, provider of hearth and home
to those who have passed from our presence. Mighty one,
elder son of ancient Kronos and good Rhea,
devoted husband of tender Persephone,
to your hall do all men make their way one day.
The riches of the earth are yours as well, Hades;
all the precious gems locked inside sturdy stone,
all the rich ores held within your realm; the seeds
buried in the soil, waiting to pierce the surface,
are likewise of your domain. Benevolent Hades,
granter of wealth, from your hands fall riches untold;
master of dreams, through you do our beloved dead
yet speak; holder of the gates of the world to come,
Hades, final friend of mankind, I call to you.
To Persephone
I call to Persephone, fair child of Demeter
and thundering Zeus, springtime-loving goddess,
light-footed goddess, in fields of flowers you dance;
the lovely nymphs are your dearest companions.
Beloved bride of noble Hades, gracious mistress
of the deep underworld, of such stark beauty
and tranquil majesty, queen of ghosts, advocate
of the dead. Always beauty surrounds you, goddess,
whether with your feet amidst the brightest blossoms,
the light of ever-watchful Helios bright against
your unbound hair as you roam the green meadows,
or enthroned in splendor beneath the earth
among the brilliant stones, the gold and silver
that were your bride-gift. Blessed Persephone,
who knows much of life and much of death, I call to you.
To Demeter
I call to Demeter, great lady of the land,
friend of the farmer, sustainer of mankind,
daughter of deep-hearted Rhea and wily Kronos,
loving mother of rich-tressed Persephone.
In ancient times were you honored by country folk
above all others; in all the provinces
did men and women pray to you and ask your blessing.
Goddess, we see your hand in rows of golden grain,
in heavy-fruited trees, in fields of scarlet poppies
blooming amongst the barley, in the passing of seasons,
in the fury of a mother wronged. Demeter,
lauded in storied Eleusis, mistress of
those cherished mysteries and sacred rites,
by your might and your compassion do we endure,
do we live our lives. Demeter, I call to you.
To Euthenia
I call to Euthenia, child of Hephaistos
and charming Aglaia of the shining eyes;
graceful goddess, generous bride of the Nile.
With your sisters you grant to mankind those gifts
that bring precious peace to our minds; above all
you take from us the fear of want and bestow
on us the comfort of having enough. Goddess,
blessed Euthenia, friend of humanity,
patron of those who strive and those who struggle,
you who are so good and so kind to those in need,
you who rewards hard work with prosperity,
you whose mercy and compassion are known to all,
Euthenia, giver of contentment and repose,
generous provider of opportunity,
granter of abundance, I call to you.
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