Her Hive

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Her Hive

Poem — An Invocation to The Mother #16

Bold were the machinations of falsehood
Imposing on lives and minds its dreadhood,
Weaving through mists of shadow and lie
The ruse and sleight of its move deadly,
Advancing with its troops a rapid fear
That makes virulence much bigger appear.
Oh who could know that the mind’s gate
Admitted the enemy of abrupt fate?
Or that a lay faith could firmly seal
Secure the body, carrier of the soul!
I lend thee O men this mighty shield
Of Her name by thy mind to wield.

Say, ‘Of Her hive am I a single cell,
No virulence may approach to live and tell!’