 |
| The Morrigan Mask by Lauren Raine |
oh, shapeshifter / crow shadow against
full moon / death / oh, slumbering waking /
what is there about distortion / chiaroscuro
smudging / that prepares us to wear
long-forgotten garments / how can / she
be both for death and life / her rough wool /
layers of flowing silk / don’t goddesses
have to choose / is she not temptress
of contradictions / fertility / combines
with fog / the crow is hiding in the dense black /
but forgets about silence / I know the crone
is coming back to trick me / compassion
is not her bailiwick / her silence harsh
ink dark / if true her breasts form hills
of Kerry / and she is bird / then mountains
fly upon the breeze / her silver beak /
her lips / my conscience conscientious
disavows her blame / my sins are plenty /
I want her story to bequeath / healing /
if I spell her name and drop / r-i-g/ dead
in the middle / I see my maiden name /
she is goddess of our family anger /
we are three sisters / cacophony
of outrage at our stumbling / though
her sisters’ trinity begot St. Patrick’s
that we adopted / I cannot refuse
to juxtapose this goddess /
of my contradictions / request
that she remain with me / one night /
as if upon the fog’s low layer / she
might wander off / retrieve my mother /
father / sister /brother / through
a corridor of messages / of which
the sun is seeking / past / before
laurel / hawthorn / lilac bloom /she
retreats into her shrine / this passage tomb
Newgrange / where I find / my name/
my sisters’ names / upon her lips
full moon / death / oh, slumbering waking /
what is there about distortion / chiaroscuro
smudging / that prepares us to wear
long-forgotten garments / how can / she
be both for death and life / her rough wool /
layers of flowing silk / don’t goddesses
have to choose / is she not temptress
of contradictions / fertility / combines
with fog / the crow is hiding in the dense black /
but forgets about silence / I know the crone
is coming back to trick me / compassion
is not her bailiwick / her silence harsh
ink dark / if true her breasts form hills
of Kerry / and she is bird / then mountains
fly upon the breeze / her silver beak /
her lips / my conscience conscientious
disavows her blame / my sins are plenty /
I want her story to bequeath / healing /
if I spell her name and drop / r-i-g/ dead
in the middle / I see my maiden name /
she is goddess of our family anger /
we are three sisters / cacophony
of outrage at our stumbling / though
her sisters’ trinity begot St. Patrick’s
that we adopted / I cannot refuse
to juxtapose this goddess /
of my contradictions / request
that she remain with me / one night /
as if upon the fog’s low layer / she
might wander off / retrieve my mother /
father / sister /brother / through
a corridor of messages / of which
the sun is seeking / past / before
laurel / hawthorn / lilac bloom /she
retreats into her shrine / this passage tomb
Newgrange / where I find / my name/
my sisters’ names / upon her lips
Poem from our upcoming anthology, Warrior Queen: Answering the Call of The Morrigan.
Mary Ellen Talley’s poems have recently been published in Raven Chronicles, U City Review and Ekphrastic Review as well as in the anthologies, All We Can Hold and Ice Cream Poems. Her poetry has received two Pushcart Nominations.
Comments
Post a Comment