Ancient view

OF MAIDEN OLDE

Whispers called her witch; by right tribal crone.
Weep for sad fate to be so marked at birth,
to never know love, to face the Powers alone.
Why does chastity proclaim a measure of worth?

Does her need knowledge of herbs find hidden root
more readily from narrow cot of virgin tears?
Does the future unraveled by song or reed flute
gain in truth when revealed midst rags and furs?

Was withered arm and twisted face a Goddess gift?
Did God pride or Man shame dry up her mother's breast?
Would the Shaman ever guide and her sorrow lift
from tradition's need at ancient common behest?

Alone she strides with spotted faun and dragonfly.
By one in bond she chants to the wind and rain,
and sure protects Beltane destined mystery.
Alone of women she Solstice crop's birth does train.

In battle met she stands by fierce standard proud;
flowing grey tress and jagged tooth her only shield.
Wielding staff which striketh fear as any blood sword,
for by bold faith proclaim, no warrior will yield.

Do not bewail she will not see next hundred moon.
Know the dread potion is mixed and waits prepared,
for a strong, young widow with daughter seed her boon.
The braid is eternal, her Mother gift now shared.

faucon