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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required For good, the Druid woods claimed this girl child for its own; nymphs named the silk-skinned, raven-black of her, Fianna. This night, she’s hurt hunting demons in her mother’s grove. She recalls, her fright at five, abandoned in these woods alone. Nymphs named the silk skinned, raven-black of her, Fianna, by-blow of a Moor, left as dross in these weird weeping; she recalls, her fright at five, abandoned in these woods alone. An adept now, she aids the Weird in its fight with rising hell. By-blow of a Moor, left as dross in these weird weeping, raised by the fey, she was taught good from evil well. An adept now, she aids the glade in its fight with rising hell; her blessed-onyx points, caste blackhearts from the dell. Raised by the fey, she was taught good from evil well. The Blood moon’s rise brings hell’s minions out in droves; her blessed-onyx points, caste blackhearts from the dell. Defilers die by her hand and Druid bow bespelled. The Blood moon’s rise brings hell's minions out in droves. Rain caught in the leaves revives; moss clots her blood. Defilers die by her hand and Druid bow bespelled, as she protects the oak and ash from whispering hell. Rain caught in the leaves revives; moss clots her blood. This night, she’s hurt hunting demons in her mother’s grove as she protects the oak and ash from whispering hell. For good, the Druid woods claimed this girl child for its own. First Published by After the Pause
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