The Well of Despair is dark and deep,
its twisting steps are worn and steep,
polished by the ceaseless tread
of those for whom all hope has fled.
The walls are hung with webs of sighs,
woven from the bitter cries
of fallen angels, sluts and whores
blind and deaf to ancient lore.
Bedraggled women, bruised and battered
psyches shattered,
cannot cast the spells of light
for they have lost their inner sight;
sisters who have chained their souls
watch their folly take its toll.
Born to sorrow and to pain,
born to turn the wheel again.
Down and down the cosmic stair
to gather on the shores of care.
Where gazing round with empty eyes,
Their broken hearts full of lies,
Each enfolded in the Hag's embrace,
weeping as they take their place
upon the endless karmic lake.
She knows the Fates will not forsake
their task to send these spirits forth
again to journey through rebirth.
At the birth two beings preside,
swept there by the cyclic tide.
The Hag transformed to Goddess Mother
recoils in horror from the other.
Once again Her heart must break
knowing that the Dark One takes
spirits like this flowering child,
destroying all that's true and wild,
and when his evil soul is sated
takes the wraith he has created
to the very Gates of Hell
and sells her
to the Keeper of the Well.

©Doreen Hopwood