By Arian Niwl
Image: Pixabay
Men struggle with curses and shouts,
Ground soaked with flowing life’s blood.
The battle rages without any doubts,
Warrior’s fall into the red soaked mud.
I watch with dark raven sharp eyes,
A spectacle and scene that is a play,
Wearing on my shoulder as a guise
Raven feathers while I watch the fray.
The die has been cast as I already know,
To whom the victor, to whom the defeat.
My ravens have already made the crow,
And already death has made ready to meet.
Soon the battle predetermined will end
And these my ravens shall feast on the dead.
All the souls to the Otherworld will ascend
Across the battlefield then I shall tread.
Maiden, Mother, Crone am I naught.
No! I am Goddess of the dark of the moon.
I, the Warrior Woman that is seldom sought.
Only the brave will seek me to commune.
I have been known by many a name,
Morrigon, Areonwen are just a few.
The Goddess of battle fate I do claim
And those wise should honour me true.