Poem: The Face of Cerridwyn

The Face of Cerridwyn 

As the death of each loved one
fills the burial field of old age,
our hearts drip our own life blood –
slowly, gracefully, lovingly
into the cauldron of Cerridwyn.

Each drop mourns our loss, 
feeds our own certain death, 
resounds our transformations 
as her dark visage starkly faces
each and every one of us.

Drop, drop, dropping into her abyss,
we are fearless, joyful, resolute
in the Crone wisdom of her grace –
knowing her black graves 
are a place of peace.

Lynne Sedgmore – Priestess Healer

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