Veleda
dwelt apart, within a tower
Near
Ösning, forest of the Asa-Rune.
Her
mother gave this prophetess great power
By eating
herbs engendered by the moon.
But soon,
an old herb-woman claimed her price,
And bore
the child away, as was her right.
Veleda
bloomed
—
a golden cockatrice
Whose
beauty was as blinding as noon light.
They sent
her Lord Lupercus, for a slave,
Yet
passion ended with a Roman gibe.
Veleda
fled a world where tyrants crave
The wake
of civil slaughter, tribe with tribe,
And used
her tears to open his dead eyes,
While
Rome cursed Caesar, losing such a prize.
© 2010 by Ellin
Anderson. All rights reserved.
No part of this work may be copied or used in any way
without written permission from the author. |