After Anger Poem by Gabrielle Ciarann Roniyah Baer

Hercules, you're wrong
the death blow Iolaus took
should not have been yours
it should have been mine instead

Why wasn't it mine?
Why wasn't my heart pierced?
Why wasn't I the one sacrificed,
if that's what was meant to be?

Oh most Ancient Ones, gods of my people!
I grew to womanhood in your lands,
I grew up loving the grandeur and music of your names,
It was not your tales and songs I ran away from.
It was not your temples and rites I despised.

But those who told and sang the songs and tales,
But those who ruled in the temples
and enacted those rites,
I learned to distrust, to despair of,
to want none of.

Now I stand again alone
Queen of my people as I never wished to be,
as I never thought to be.

Bereft of a new love,
who was once a stranger.
Bereft of a once dear brother,
who became a stranger.

And I cry out to you,
Most Ancient Ones,
Creators and sustainers of my people.
And I call to you,
Great Shining Ones,
Goddesses and gods of my people
a litany I make of your names for my prayer:
Ninlil and Damkina, Enlil and Nisaba,
Nammu and Ashnan, Erishkegal, Dumuzi,
Mami and Enkidu, Ninsar,
Enki, and Ninsurhag,
Nergal, Uttu, and Lahar,
Lamasthu, Sin, and Great Inanna!

If its this warrior's heart that must be pierced,
If its my blood that needs to be spilled,
If it is this woman's life that must be sacrificed,
Take it from me, take it quickly, take it freely.

Only
send back the true brother who should be king here,
generous, kind and laughing once more here
Only
send back the new love who should be standing here,
golden and ruddy and vibrantly alive here
to the land of the living where they belong,
to the people who need them.
And I am yours.

(written in September,1999)