I inhale as sage burns. The smoke wraps around me and my mind quiets. It fills me and Hecate is there.
I have never felt Artemis with a bow in my hand. I have never been so skilled. instead, I sit next to her in old trees. We listen to the air.
Aphrodite is near me when I gaze at myself in the mirror and have no hateful thoughts about my body. She swims in my bath water, happy that I am taking care of myself.
Athena is in my intense need for battle and for standing my ground. She helps me flip the pages of my books.
Hestia is there in the candles I light. She flickers and dances in the flame, illuminating my face.
Hera beckons me when I hold my tongue. She stands by as I create my own healing in the silence.
Persephone is in the smell of spring. As the rain hits the pavement and falls down on me, I am in her embrace.
Demeter watches when I must compromise and when I must smile through aches to survive.
Okay but imagine a punk Aphrodite, all tight, black leather jeans, white jack Daniels shirt and leather jacket with pastel pink hair flowing down her back.
Activist Artemis running a shelter for abused women, contacting her sister Athena for support with legal battles.
Hera running a boarding school for young girls, teaching them everything from economics to ancient literature.
Demeter running a success agriculture company with a daughter who ran away to be with a tattooed, young Hades