A response to a prompt given on day eleven of National Poetry Writing Month.
For various reasons and various excuses I'm not keeping up well with the month.
I am not telling you how much or how little of this happened to me. I will just say that my Twitter name, Seren Ravenlight, is there for a reason.
|Picture by Claudia Wascher, taken from here.|
In speaking, the shaman revealed my gift:
A raven guide. Ride Morrigan's warrior waves,
Find Freya, feast in her harshest heavenlies.
Walk in your goddess vulnerability, barefoot on glass shards.
The medicine woman smiled, endorsed my gift,
Held me in her cold, naked embrace,
Pierced my depths with sharp sawn fingers,
Bid me to dream-sight through eternal darkness.
Then, shaking her robes, she left me.
Presently I slept, heard heaven's laughter
As if God rebuked my false-lived treachery.
Heaven, near destitute, was missing a raven.
Near despair, I was granted only jackdaws.
Watching, all sides surrounded. Waiting,
Bowed heads, lifted wings. I lay uncovered,
Flesh, bone, sinew, heart, each poison pierced
By corvid sight, all disordered secrets laid bare.
A bell. A silent voice commanded respect.
The seven turned away. The three walked on me.
Claws tearing flesh, a blood soaked cleansing.
Each talon ripped my marrow sin, my stained glass sorrows.
The one wrapped its wings, enveloped my penis,
Protecting my sex, singing spirit's acceptance.
The four pierced palms and feet, crucified me,
Granted free life through my Christly death.
And the two pecked our my eyes, swallowed short sightedness
Before shredding my coarse, arrogant mind.