Here’s my contribution to the 7th Annual Brigid Poetry Festival:
Clean water, rose-scented,
bright linen sheets: wind-rippled.
Droplets race down her skin,
carrying death back to the earth.
Sun-brown women carry pitchers
filled with lavender water
for hair matted, plaited
in patterns of death.
Throw those rotten shoes into the sea!
Banish these tattered rags to the mountain!
Exorcise this filth from her pure body!
Caramel skin glows radiant
as the decay falls away,
hidden so long
in the realm of the dead,
in the halls of Ereshkigal.
Comb smooth her hair,
dress it in queenly braids.
Line her eyes with kohl,
drape her in purple linen.
Gird her in her calf-skin girdle,
adorned with gold buckles and pearls.
Drape her in ropes of lapis beads,
weigh her down with bright seashells.
Place a nosegay of crocus in her bosom,
tuck a daffodil behind her ear,
sing her praises, magnify her name,
for the Goddess is arisen! Rejoice!
This isn’t really my view of Wiccan theology, but it’s what the muse told me to take down this morning. Check out all the other poetry today!