Crone

I am the last of the three
and the power in me
is the power of time
that crumbles all,
the power of root,
that carves all,
the power of wind,
that wears all.

I will walk through
the dark of the year,
and you will hear
my footsteps echo
on hard ground,
and my words will
whisper in the whirling wind.

I am the last of the three,
the one who bears
the winding sheet,
the one who stands
in the doorway,
and my strength is
the strength of the
tree enduring,
the fire burning,
the storm raging,
the night consuming.

Happy Samhain, Halloween, Day of the Dead, whatever. Bjorn has asked us to write from the point of view of a monster. I’m paying tribute to the third, and darkest, aspect of the triple goddess – the Crone. Hard to love a crone.

Head over to dVerse for some spooky Halloweeny poetry…

17 thoughts on “Crone

  1. Love this, Sarah, especially the lines:
    ‘…the power of time
    that crumbles all,
    the power of root,
    that carves all,
    the power of wind,
    that wears all’
    and
    ‘…my strength is
    the strength of the
    tree enduring,
    the fire burning,
    the storm raging,
    the night consuming’.

    Like

  2. I liked how you gave a hint without coming right out and saying you were writing the crone perspective. For me it came through clearly. Great power and momentum especially in that last stanza. The image of her standing in the doorway…*shivers*

    Like

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