The Crone’s Haste…

Look at what this hath borne…
A mundane girl with hands unworn!
What good is she for our intent?
Walk will she when legs are spent?
The path is long and she bares nothing
Of the course we plot for searching.
Give this creature back to earth -
We shall wait another birth.
She hasn’t even got the vision
Of the ways when we were prisoned!
I’ve not another glance to spare
On this poor soul so opened bare.
I’ll return another day
Please would you quickly point the way?
…

One moment here…I must be weary
I thought her eyes a little teary
Just a babe, must be wanting
But no cries do I hear haunting?
This stone room once bitter cold
Now strangely I feel warmth take hold.
Why does she stare at me this way?
I swear I cannot walk away -
Something binds me in my place!
Give her here for my embrace
Could I have missed a muted mark?
On her soul this child stark
The moons and days were all in line
Promised I was from Divine!
Ah… but wait I feel her now -
A gentle song within I’ve found.
How could I miss such gentle waves
Within her complex spirit maze?
A test I fear this could be
One I nearly failed to see
A witch’s work is never done
Not as mother, maiden, crone.
My years are many as mind is wise
I’ll take this child under guise.
Where she’ll be raised and nurtured well
We must part so we may dwell
Within the Coven’s circle tight
Under stars and full moon nights
A babe she is but woman will be
A witch by rite and all shall see
It isn’t a gift so plainly blazed
On a soul’s spirit maze
But witch she is in all Her glory
One day you shall hear her story.
Off we be on journey bright
With Goddess grace and new found sight.

Oakling
January 23, 2003