In days of old,
So I’ve been told,
There was a woman whose literal name meant intoxication,
She walked the realm of Ireland,
An iron fist, heart of desire, and plenty of victories to prove this so.
Queen Maeve of the Fae,
But do not mistake,
For she has a different namesake,
Goddess Maeve the Battle Queen.
Cunning and willful she rules them all,
But with femininity and grace she rules herself.
Into battles she rides without a doubt she will prevail.
Into pleasure she strides without a doubt she will be fulfilled.
From the Cattle Raid of Cooley to her battles of inadequate partners, she walks with her chin held high.
She is unafraid of her physical and mental prowess, for she owns every inch of her body.
To be seen as an equal,
To command what she ultimately desires,
If she goes unsatisfied, she will hunt until he hunger is indulged,
We call upon her in our modern times to teach us the ways of old,
To guide us on becoming the commander of our own selves,
For it is the reigns we hold.
She shows us to not let others judgments hinder our stride,
She shows us to be most sovereign and authentic when we ride,
For our golden chariot awaits to usher us to our next battle in this round of life.
Queen Maeve is said to rest atop the hill Knocknarea,
She is honored by one of the largest cairns in Ireland.
Devotees visit this sacred site to carry their own burdens to the top,
In hopes of harnessing a mere once of the essence of the Goddess.
Maeve continues to exude strength in her passing, as she carries the weight of these heavy stones.
This hill goes by many names, but I like to think of it as only one,
The Hill of the Moon.
For when I look to the night sky, I look deep into the glow of the orb made of stardust and am impregnated with many thoughts of the Goddess,
But most of all I am reminded to be steadfast in my actions and live like the warrior Queen I know I am.