Exultant wrath shatters calm winds with a pinch
as she lifts another foot up the creaking rung.
Steady with stealth, but heart belting out:
an enigmatic rhythm. Even the haunting melody stung.
Mirthful outrage lead a vehement uproar of
objections; rejections; impassioned flirtations.
The shadow above the throne waits for arrival
of the jar filled with her mellow abstractions.
Whimsical acrimony danced upon the frays lining her
pale crimson veil of a dress; hear thee, she mourns.
Gift in hand, unwilling intent, held captive by
cumbersome breaks of nauseous morning's dawns.
Sprightly ire powders her soul at the final step.
At last, here she stands before twilight's christening.
For eternity shall she surrender to alternative dwellings,
with only gloom to accompany and murk for feasting.
-Morrigan: a figure from Irish mythology who appears to have once been a goddess, although she is not explicitly referred to as such in the texts.
She is associated with sovereignty, prophecy, war, and death on the battlefield.-
Note: This poem was not inspired by Morrigan, I actually finished writing this first and was searching for a suitable title when this Goddess came to mind. It may not illustrate her story, just my own imagination and interpretation.
