Lenaia
by Sannion

Awaken, O Bacchic One, from your long slumber
And raise yourself up from the earth with loud thunder!
You who wear ripe fruit as your crown
and cause the mad-women to leap and fall down;
they who rave and dance before your ivy-draped idol
praising your power and beauty and all your fine titles.
O Bromios, sweet is the wine we draw from your casks,
and sweet the laughter of the street-marching youths in their masks.
Rude jokes and ribald songs they sing on their way
that none may forget in whose honor we esteem this day.
From death comes life and in dark there is light;
changing sorrow to joy - yea, such are the secrets of your rites.
No god has a festival as great as your Lenaia
not even the ram-bearing feast belonging to the son of Maia!
So join us, Dionysos, as we drink to good cheer
And may all who tip their glass to you be back next year!

Lenaia
by Oinokhoe

In the swirling madness of the dance, your presence is visceral.
I close my eyes but do not see some vision of your face
No, you are in my sweat, and my breath carries your scent
as I shout your name, and fall heavily to the ground.

Here, you are a warm, thick skin around mine
The fur and musk of an animal, with a lover’s tender touch.
You cradle me as the fury pours out, and I cry,
knowing this is not the end of it.

Again, the wine slips down my throat – you are inside me.
My legs want to collapse, but you push me forward
All the maddened people are sweeping past me, cups in hand.
I must follow, for your pleasure, I must join them.

All night, I give you all I have to give
My surrender palpable, and tasting of blood.
For all the pain that rends me like a sacrifice,
I love you – my destroyer, you softly brutal god.

Hymn to Dionysos Meilikhios
by Sannion

Come thou, O Lord, in thy name of Meilikhios
Gentle and loving master of all,
With the warmth of life in thy ruddy cheeks
A gracious smile upon thy soft lips,
Thy head of flowing locks crowned with a wreath of juicy figs
And thy ivy-wrapt wand held high!
Before thee is set a table overflowing with bread and meats,
Heaped with piles of fruit from the vine,
And wine that flows as freely as thy maniform blessings.
Join us in the feast, O Kindly One,
And raise thy voice along with ours,
As we sing of the good things of life
And the joys that thou bringest to us
Away, away all sorrows!
Take flight depression and thou winged madness,
For Meilikhios is here,
Laughter-loving, all-embracing lord of life!
Ie Ie Meilikhios!

Lampteria
by Oinokhoe

The lamps were all lit for the night
And bowls of dark wine laid down
I watched flames flicker in burgundy pools
As a heavy musk seeped into the air around us.

I thought I knew what was to come
But I, the mantis, had no real clairvoyance after all.
I thought I was full with freedom
But I, the maenad, still covered my bare skin.

Silently you watched, like a temple statue
As I twisted, twirled, and spun about
Until I was breathless, and intoxicated
With the mad movement of my own body.

Only then, as I lay spent and trembling
Did you finally rise
With something sharp and terrible for me
And a touch, unbearably gentle.

Words are swallowed by the darkness
In the aftermath of my surrender
The visions I am left with only these:
Your eyes, still watching from the shadows of the altar
And your lips, wet with something dark and red.

Hymn for the Worthy Bull and his Mother
by Sannion

Oh Mother of the Worthy Bull, incline your horned head to our prayers,
You who are the gentlest of all the creatures that tred the broad-bosomed earth,
You who give sweet milk for us to drink and consent to be yoked to the plough
That we might plant our seed in fertile furrows and watch as the ripe stalks of corn leap up to feed our hungry bellies. Your heart is cheerful and delights in our lovely songs and spritely dances, and your boons to man are beyond reckoning. But the greatest kindness you have shown to us is the bearing of your mighty son!

For all these many months your belly has grown heavy with a joyous burden, and about you has shown a heavenly light. We have seen the child of promise stir within you, dancing in the womb in expectation of the time when he will come to lead the throng of Mainades in rapturous celebration on the hill.

And now, after such a long time, you have given us the god. Oh Mistress of wide-pastures and musical lowing, your son is here! And how lovely he is to look upon, with his gleaming golden horns and his wine-dark hide and his massive frame to bear our sorrows. When he bellows deep in his throat the whole earth rumbles in echo and the wild women feel their bodies burn with love for him! And when the time comes to perform the terrible deed his blood will wash over the land, making it new and full of vibrant life once more, the red drops turning into green grass and black grapes and golden corn. Oh, Mother, your noble son fills us with awe and wonder, for here is a mighty god in the mighty form of a bull!

A Poem for Dionysos
by Sannion

Follow the shaggy satyr through secret forest paths
Until you reach the gathering where the nymphs still dance
Circling round and round in rapturous worship of
King Lusios, crowned with clusters of ripe grapes and green
Foliage, he the master of men's hearts whose tender touch
Unleashes their hidden spirits, freeing them from ego's
Cruel chains to revel in primal purity, feeling themselves not apart but
Kin to all creation. They dance a dance old as time,
Flowing blissful on waves of wine, their every move
Under the control of their god, whose heartbeat is heard in the
Clangor of drum and pipe and wailing barbarous shouts.
Keep the memory of this moment in your heart, how it
Felt to touch the divine and be touched by him in return, the
Unspeakable ecstacy of dissolving at his feet, your fears and
Concerns, your fragile, broken, imperfect parts melting away in his
Kiss and the way he stroked your cheek, saying:
Follow me, my child, and I will make you whole again,
Unbelievable as it may seem, and teach you to be free.
Child, my path is not easy: it will cost you everything to be mine.
Knowledge of this sort is a heavy burden - though ignorance is heavier - and
Freedom, real freedom, is never easy. But
Unless you walk this path, you will be like a dead man,
Close to living, but not really. How empty the other way seems,
Kept apart from the source of life. Never to
Feel the heart in your breast thunder with excitement,
Ugliness all about instead of the beauty of the mountian -
Crisp snow beneath your feet and the smell of pine in the air -
Knife-sharp pain and transcendent joy, these two sides of one coin.
Feel everything, and feel it intensely!
Understand this above all else: mine is the path of life,
Child, and everything in it. Leave no sensation unexplored;
Kill what holds you back inside and drink your
Fill from my cup, emptying it and asking for more
Until your lips are stained with wine and you
Cannot recall a time when you were sober.
Keep these commandments of mine and I will bless you, o
Friend of mine!
Up you lift your head, proud to be
Counted among the ivy-clad Bakkhoi of
Kissokomes, the ivy-crowned god.
From your wine-drenched lips
Unbidden and incomprehensible
Comes a shout like that made by the mighty
Kine in the field, and in that moment you understand the mystery.

Dionysos
by Sannion

Dionysos, I sing, whose head is twined with ivy
and grapes in ripe bunches that tumble to his gentle shoulders,
clad in their fawn-skin cloak.
Swift-moving God, racing down the side of Olympos,
or through the wooded coverts of the Nysan plane,
attended by goat-footed Satyrs, and the lovely Nymphs,
giving out the call, "Euoi!"
All-conquering, fierce-eyed One,
who wields his thyrsos like a fiery brand,
striking with madness those who offend him.
Mystery discovered through our bodies,
in dancing round bon-fires till exhaustion overtakes us,
and the touching of
trembling flesh against trembling flesh
underneath the all-seeing moon.
I suppose there are older Gods, and stronger -
but there has never been a God dearer to my heart
than the son of Semele and Zeus who reigns in Heaven!

Ecstasy by Moonlight
by Sannion

I have heard the call of Dionysos late at night,
as the blood echoed in my ears like wine sloshing against the rim of a drinking cup,
and my feet ached to dance the ancient dances in the shadow-haunted hills.
In that moment I felt myself immense,
kin to the fiery stars dancing in the vaulted halls of heaven,
and the wild beasts who roam the desert wastes.
And I knew myself free and flowing, bound by no law, by no limits.
In that moment I could do anything, be anything,
for a God dwelt in me, and I was an ivy-branded priest of Bacchus, beautiful and ecstatic!

Maenads invoking the God
by Sannion

What god do we honor here on the mountain? None but Dionysos, the wild and untamed savior who, with his joyous companions, comes bursting over the hill top. He is the bull, can't you see - strong, passionate, fierce, all unbridled power and unconquered spirit. The capering goat is his animal, and the snake in the wicker basket. He is the one who causes the life to quicken, who makes the sap to flow through the branches and the blood to course through our veins. He is the heat of spring, whose gentle touch unfolds the blossom and makes the maidens blush. He is the very spirit of connection, the intimate urge for another warm body, the overpowering need to feel their flesh against yours, their lips pressed against yours, their spirit mingling with yours. He is felt in the rising penis and the heated vulva. Hail god, great is your power! The realm where his power is the greatest is the natural world. He is felt in the rich black earth of crop-lands, and in strong, fruit-bearing trees. He explodes into the world in the riotous colors of the spring flowers, but he is there in the muted hues of fall as well. He looks out at us from the forest, beckoning us to follow him. He is there when trees wave in the breeze and the grass sways under the sun. All the green growth of the earth is his. Though he is in every plant, no plant better represents all his heat and passion than the flowering vine, heavy with bunches of grapes. Take those bunches of grapes in your hands and squeeze them tight, and you will feel the god poured out over your fingers. From those grapes men make wine, and there is no better vehicle for him than that holy drink. Whenever you're drinking wine, you're drinking the god. He jumps into your body with the first sip - by the time you've emptied your cup he's already made his home in your belly. The feeling of warmth and expansiveness, that freedom from restraint, that boldness and flowing speech - all this is the god, all this is Dionysos working within you. But moderation is advised in the drinking, for it is a dangerous draught which often leads to destruction. A little wine brings eloquence, they say, but too much brings madness. But for those willing to expose themselves, god can be found in the madness too. What we mortals consider normal and right and good is so very limited. The earth is wide, and her mysteries deep. Darkness, fear, and suffering - these are the barriers to truth and light and joy, and if we would attain the goal we must first pass through them. But we needn't walk that way alone, for Dionysos can be our guide, a leader through the pathways of madness. He lifts us up, helps us attain freedom, helps us feel joy, helps us experience creativity. Through him our lives are made better, given shape, filled with holiness. He is the goal, the source, the prize that we yearn for all of our lives. He is the bridegroom, and we the bride. Joyous is the wedding of these lost lovers! That, then, is the god that we honor in song on the mountain.

The Dancers on the hill
by Sannion

I dance with my sisters the sacred dance of god. The drum lifts our feet, teaches us the ancient steps which none of us knew, which our bodies have always known. Step lively, sisters, the god is with us. I see him in little Alkesta, the way she stares so intently at nothing, and moves to a rhythm no one else can hear. Oh, and Dika has him too - see her tossing that red mane of hers all about, and the way "Euoi!" rises frequently to her lips. Kleis has him, but with her it's harder to tell. She doesn't step outside the dance, and only makes the ritual shout when the others do. But her dance is a little more graceful than it was before, and the smile on her lips says something's going on. Dionysos is everywhere tonight - in the fire and the darkness beyond, in the drummers and the dancers and the earth beneath our feet. He is that ancient, primal rhythm - older than all the gods, older even than the earth - that brings all things together, together in joy, together in fullness, together in the holy shout of the god! Words do not convey the meaning of god - only motion, that motion given expression in our bodies. Come sisters, let us dance for the god - it is the best way to honor him.

After the revel
by Sannion

My eyelids are heavy, and I feel sleep coming upon me. My limbs are so tired - all night I have danced round the fire in honor of the god, and exhaustion is my sweet reward. Heavy now my limbs and heavy my tongue. Earlier wine loosed my tongue and I chanted the ancient songs with the rest of them - but now it's an effort to speak, and not worth the trouble at that. The world is creeping towards stillness - and we honor the god with quiet during the long hours of the night. Occasionally the fire still crackles as the last embers slowly burn themselves out. Now and then intermitant laughter is heard, and if you listen real hard you can still hear the soft moans as an occasional couple honor the god in Aphrodite's mystery - but these rare noises serve only to remind the rest of us how still and quiet the world is. I find it hard to think anymore - all the wine I drank this evening is catching up with me. My body is awash in the purple waves of Bacchus, a kid I fall into the ocean of milk, I go down tasting the god's sweet honey on my lips. Lord Bromios, carry me away!