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Crow Woman

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That’s the thing about the Crow eyed women With their lips bedecked in otherness You might think for a moment they are infused with whimsy But Morrigan made them with steel bones We endure beyond the point of breaking And underestimate us at your own risk We speak for the heart of the wild ones Teeth bared to raise up a snarl Magick without heart is autopsy The mask of the cruel slips and falls Hold me to a higher standard Mother discards the chaff and the field burns A pain in my chest speaks to it And these hurts are passing And once again shall we rise.

- Joey Morris 2018 all rights reserved

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