Lady Of The Forest Poem by Jacqueline Czel

Ever untouchable she sits in her bramble and thatched hovel
among the broad trees and gnarled roots of knowledge
offering a cup of smoky tea to lost wanderers
on the forest road, something warm
and tasting understanding.

Ever unknowable she sits in her bramble and thatched hovel
where the dried herbs of healing and salves of ease
hang down from wrapped threads spun late at
night by crackling firelight, illuminating
dark paths for the utterly lost.

Ever unblessed she sits in her bramble and thatched hovel
awaiting the night calls of the needy come quickly
as the cries of their fair lovers in the throes of
labor drive them to her wooden door
for she will come to deliver.