Great Mother,
defamed by time, maligned by fear.
To think the hand that slew your daughters
Once tore their flesh in semblance of your secret
Donned your rainment and gave their souls over.
Hallowed Mother, whose torch was the bright moon
lighting the path to unending clarity.
What remains now, but crimson veiled whispers
flowing in the guise of curses.

'Great Mother' © Andrea Diaz forever. May not be reproduced without permission