Yeats had his mountain, and I have mine.
She rises strong and unafraid, content to hold her secrets
until the time is ripe.

Soft her slopes, steep the pilgrim’s journey
to earn her respect and in honoring mystery open
treasures held in the heart.

On Knocknarea I met warrior queen
alive within me. I rose up, filled my cup, and drank freely
of Maeve’s mythic beauty,

Knowing this a stream all women share.
Fierce our hearts and bold the gracious charge of this, our light brigade —
not for king or country.

We ride for freedom, for sacred truth,
no more defined for us but coming to life in and through us,
our footsteps thundering

Even as reign of light falls softly,
opens hearts of weary warriors clinging to defense of land.
Lay down your swords. Come now,

Enter into heavenly kingdoms,
the secret gardens and hidden glens where you may rest in love.
See now how your light shines!