Sunday, October 10, 2010


The fruit falls swiftly from the tree,

the bulls stand silent in the lake,

the figure crucified is seen

upon the framework of the dream.

With arms spread wide and silent eyes

they lift her high upon the boughs

and turn her face towards the south

where white-flanked cows raise shining knives

above the meek and pious brows.

With sure and steady strokes they strip

pink flesh from each initiate,

to bathe in sacred waters then

the raw-bled truth of god and men.

The wise man watches, monkey-faced

and clasps each paw in full embrace

around the pierced and bleeding feet

of Woman, raised … her Self to meet.

Then gathered in small, blackened arms

the corpse is carried to the edge

of water, sanctified and deep

wherein the Goddess counsel keeps.

To lie beneath the water’s chill

and watch through full and empty eyes

the blood-washed sacrifice above

has been her greatest act of love.


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