Irish Woman A.D. 100
Timeless island woman,
I am the daughter
of the sons of Mil.
I am Badb, Derdriu, and
Medb queen of Connacht
dancing in our fertility festivals'
flickering firelight.
I watch my warrior go
naked into battle
with sandals on his feet,
the torc I wove golden at his throat,
sword and shield in hand.
I listen for the distant
possessed scream of his warp spasm
(a fearsome howling from the throat
and bulging of the face)
that with the screech of pipes
will bring defeat to our enemy.
I sit fiercely smiling
holding open my parted vulva
in anticipation of
coming home passion.
I am sheela-na-gig
Celtic god.
__________________________________________________
The inspiration for this historical piece is from a photograph in
Thomas Cahill's "How The Irish Saved Civilization" published
by Doubleday 1995.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
