Weary of the screams that filled her ears,
Tired of cleaning the blood from her fingernails,
Her acorns turning to ash in her pointed beak,
Macha turns away from the battle
And her sisters
In search for the normal life of home and family.
Loving his children was easy.
Tending the farm a joy.
Laying with him in the night,
She almost felt safe.
Macha dreams of roiling clouds
And jeering crowds
To be betrayed by carelessness.
It’s just a legend but it is her history,
And she curses her part.
written November 30, 2003