Who am I? I ask in the centre
You are my beloved daughter, says Aphrodite.
I want for you all the joy you can absorb.
All the love you can let flow in and out.
You are my beloved daughter too, says Herne, silently, as he does, in presence and stance.
You are always enough.
And Gaia feeds Her daughter in love
Persephone calls to me as well, you are my daughter too, reminding me of a long hera’s journey into the dark and the treasures I claimed and brought out.
And Hermes says, “no, you are not my daughter, you are no psychopomp, to lead others into spaces between the worlds and back. You do not take your lovers into places they would not go alone.” He smiles.
As I am analysing this, Athena, noting, and reminding me of analysis, curiosity and intellect, of how I use my mind, says “you are my daughter too”, smiling.
And Artemis dances around the edge of the circle. I first came to her, a ravaged maiden, her my fierce protector.
And Lugh the fiery claps me on my back heartily, and I am once more in sacred drag, his kilted warrior priest.
They surround me, arms linked, a circle, holding me round.
You are our beloved daughter.
You have always been our beloved daughter.
And that is more than one being can hold
And you hold it well.
And I who have been no beloved daughter of mortal parents
And I who have been no safely cloistered maiden
And I who have been never held in the circle of a family who see me so clearly.
And I am enough.