Lady raven, fly. Black wings
shadow falls over battle
field, sacred fields and bring
the breath of Avalon, the
peace of the west. We have
tried, warrior made, we have
fought, we have died 'til the
dolmens and groves have
run red with out blood.
Battle crone, are we lost as
your standing stones fall?
Do our own Wicca ways go
for naught? Morrigan, Morrigan.
Do not cry, Wicca
child, for your life or your
ways. Know the peace of the
grave is a rest, not an end.
To my ways be reborn, for
the craft never died and my
time comes again, I am the
Morrigan, Morrigan. Lady
raven, fly, black wing's
shadow falls over city lights,
jewelled nights and come to
us from Avalon, come forth
from the west. See my black
feathered cape in the night,
moonless night. Know my
wing's shadow falls not to
hide, but protect. For each
wise one who calls, never
more shall they fall. And
from Avalon come I again.
Morrigan, Morrigan.
-Teara Jo Staples
The Morrigan

female, 19, wiccan, graphic designer and wanna-be artist. I like poetry, reading, drawing, playing with computers, cats, Kain, Dante, Edward Wong Hau Pepilu Tivirusky IV (sp), sugar, nature, and old VW bugs. I play games, I date girls, I read Penny Arcade. The above two poems are my all-time favorites, and no, I didn't write them. I wish I had, though, but I love them all the same ^_^