Stone of the Sheela-na-gig

Colors of a ancient medieval church with
Stained glass windows and a steps to the large bolted doors
There is a man laying resting there on the steps
Then the church would not open for him
In all it's beauty and glory the doors were not open
So he rested against the steps with his back against something older
Something more sacred than the house
And more mysterious even in its smallness in compared light
It is a stone of a Sheela-na-gig, a place where the ancient ones dwelled
Then man feared Her power and built around her to quell
But it is not the doors that opened for this man to heal
Only the woman inside the sacred stone answered his wanton cries
She called out to him to rest his woes and sorrows untold
Bringing to him peace where those doors could not
Inside a house of worship made of earth they are not
It is the light within that sparks her shadows to emerge
When rain falls she is present to cleansing rebirth
And for this fallen kind she will not let suffer though she has suffered
And she will not make him avert his eyes to the mysteries within Her
Though he may not understand or even know-
The silent calling he came to beset his heavy load
She will take within him again a muse and love rekindled
With the last remaining strength channeled through the earth into the very stone
Shrouded in the cathedral made of glass She honors the feminine
It honors piety & faithfulness but denies the ancestral urges of the cycles
Which leads men on in the fields to frustration but She renews to fruitation
It is before her this man has fallen
And she will take him into her womb to be healed
Regardless of the time when the doors close and the bells tolled for mourning souls
Devotion flows through the warmed heart given again by her revelation
Into the lands her kith and kin will walk telling stories
Of the woman who rests on the church grounds of tinted glass
A miracle that has stood to heal the past and welcome her homage
Of initiation into the maze fires within the cold rains lash
Here the plagues will end she will provide mercy for those who ask
Life and death come in an endless dance
Here where marriages are made and faith is made
She welcomes all who have been shut away and cast astray
To lean upon the ancient stone when wet she will emerge
From the carved shadows chiseled into the stone.

~By Autumn Laird

 November 5, 2002