A poem for Jehanah Wedgwood, Celtic Bard, Druid Priestess, Mistress of Ceremonies and enabling spirit for fifteen years of the Sacred Grounds Poetry Reading.  We each owe her more than we can ever express.  And damn it, we're poets.  Jehanah had a deep, deep soul, but she never made us delve deep to be touched by it; her spirit was always there, on the surface, an aura accessible to us all.  How many times have we seen and heard her both laugh and cry as she read her poems for us?  She could be gracious and she could be fierce.  Jehanah blessed us.  Jehanah, you will be deeply missed.

Mistress of the Labyrinth

Ariadne utterly pure
The virgin at the gate
What is she called after
She's breached by the hero
Who sought her grotto
Into the center of being
To meet with the desire
Dwelling in our gore spring

Pasiphae utterly luminous
Mother of the bull of Minos,
Mother of Asterion, the Star
To which does the center
Of the winding cell belong

Daedalus architect of wings
Unriddled the labyrinth
By tying a silken thread
To a myrmidon that walked
The circuit of a kohli shell

Persephone utterly clear
The Mother of Night
Guardian of the Tomb
Of the Dancing Ground
Vessel of mystery's mystery
goddess planted by god
Gives birth to the god
And only to the god

There is only one god for
There is only one goddess
Mistress of the Labyrinth
In the age of honey a gift
Keeper of the god stung bull
Raw meat for the Rite a gift
It is about the dance of death
And since this is so it must be
Ever about the dance of life

SP Mackin