Desk sat dreaming, magic weaving, Surrendering self as a conduit for life. Unspoken she comes, With a depth beyond tongue, To a room spun with windows, Tapping to the left. Acknowledged, swooping, Grey-blue beak scratching Tunnelling, A Nautilus Shell of sacred lines, Formed, Yet not written. Void black eyes Send portal-like signals, Of multi-dimensional visuals, Seen beyond His-story. The witch-faced Crone; Fierce feminine undercover; Hunted out; Forced within. See me in the darkness; The underworld of his world, Further… More… You know. Start seeing with your being – Vision through the eyes is blinded.
by Roisin Kiernan