Hecate at the cross roads
fiction
edward w pritchard
Three faced Hecate keeps on the move but rests at the cross roads, two forks in the road to uncertainty. Maiden, woman/mother and crone she looks at you with understanding and bewilderment. Sometimes she lets glimpse plans and schemes. Listen carefully for nothing is written down, her character was formed before people could write in any language.
To see her in the dark look back with twisted head over left shoulder. As you walk away listen obliquely; on rare occasions she sings three part harmony in obscure melody. Far away and forgotten her footfalls echo through dark forests. Six impressions of blurred footprints up the sacred snowy mountain.
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