In Praise of Hades

I must pray to Hades,

Beloved of Persephone

Master of the land of the dead,

Master of the haven where souls go

for healing and restoration.

You are just and merciful, oh Lord.

It is not out of cruelty

that You ignore the pleas of the living

when they pray for their dead

to be returned to them.

Far from it. Rather You know

the balance of things, that death

is necessary, and that the dead need the gift

of Your healing sanctuary.

All things change and are renewed

and the worlds are ever sustained.

Your mysteries are writ into our flesh.

You call to us from the moment we are born

and You are patient.

You can bear the weight of our grief.

As Herakles died, so must we

and this tells us it is not a horror

but sweet release and reward.

Pluto, there is a wealth of treasure

in the land of the dead,

in their songs and their stories,

and these too, You secure, for eternity.

Hail to You, Lord of the Dead,

Silent Protector of our ancestors.

Hail to You, Hades.

Hades