Song of Awen

Janet Boudicca Parfitt

Cerridwen, dark mother; tell me about love.
She laughed.
You think love is easy. Love is hard She said.
Real love is a day in, day out graft.
Love is cleaning up the vomit, scraping the poo off the bathroom floor, wiping away the blood.
Real love is not for the weak or cowardly.
Love can make you want to kill the people who bully your ugly son.
Love can make you want to murder the boy who stole the three sacred drops.
Love is not all flowers and honey.
Love can be bitter as bile and twice as poisonous.
Love can twist your guts worse than any stomach ache.
It can leave you in a void of darkness when the loved one goes away.
Love can steal souls.
And yet…and yet…
She shook her head.
Love can bring the greatest joy we can ever possess.
Love transforms us like nothing else.
It can fill us with a boundless life-giving joy.
Like the rose with the thorn you can never truly love someone without pain.
It is the price we pay for love.
But it is so worth it.

This is my poem for the Dark Moon Ritual on 14th Feb.

29893449_10204458794267397_98669556_o