By Doreen Hopwood

Did our Mother watch and weep
when Her she wolf joined
the Dark One's keep?
Did She scream in rage and grief,
crying for Her stolen child
captured by the spirit thief?

Artless, craftless, guiless fool,
heedless of the wiser words
of those who understood the rules.
Oh foolish one to trust this man!
Soul food for the predator,
another sacrificial lamb.

Dark men pierce her dreams at night;
scatterers of Osiris, crucifiers of Christ,
harbingers of fright!
Dripping honeyed words
they laugh and leer
as Psyche rents herself apart
and then retreats
subdued by fear.

Deep within the dark abyss
she hides her anger and her pain,
and wondering how she came to this,
calls aloud our Mother's name.
Distant voices, sweetly chanting,
their incantations understood,
timeless words from ages past,
the cosmic force, the sisterhood,
come to rescue her at last.

Through the portals of her soul
they breach the heavy fortress walls
singing songs of love and light,
and leading on a silken rope
her means of flight, a wondrous sight,
our Mother's mare, her name is
Hope.

©Doreen Hopwood