You see red hair, blue eyes
Pale skin.
You think of ladies in long dresses
Standing, waving handkerchiefs,
Tears on cheeks and breath
Caught in hitching sobs
As a man rides away to war.

You see red hair, blue eyes,
Pale skin.
You imagine a nightdress falling:
Soft curves, secret places
Ripe for your dominion;
Submission in the form
Of breathy sighs.

You see red hair, blue eyes,
Pale skin.
You picture women: stirring pots with shimmering steam,
Scrubbing linens in wayside streams;
In the bed of an absent lord,
Sheets bloodied as the
Heir apparent wails.

I will teach you now the truth:

Here are red hair, blue eyes,
Pale skin.
Arms strong from secret labors
In shadowy woods.
Back straight as an arrow
Tipped in poison:
Fatal magic.

Here are red hair, blue eyes,
Pale skin.
Arcane knowledge, secret wisdom;
Such treacheries behind
A pretty smile.
A hundred generations
Of Erin’s savage blood.

Here are red hair, blue eyes,
Pale skin.
Hands that can string a bow,
Or clear a path,
Or birth a babe.
Hands that can heal, or pleasure,
Or kill.

Here are red hair, blue eyes,
Pale skin.
A song on the lips, ancient words
In murmuring voice
That rises to fill the air;
A chant of uncanny
Power.

Here are red hair, blue eyes,
Pale skin.
Woman wanton with witty wiles,
Woman who enchants
With glances and smiles,
Woman who rides on the
Waves of her passion.

Here are red hair, blue eyes,
Pale skin.
She converses with beasts
And makes deals with the wind.
She calls the wolf and the raven
Her friends,
Listens to their secrets.

Here are red hair, blue eyes,
Pale skin.
Blood pulses fierce within her veins,
No prisoner she to your clumsy chains.
Secrets lie buried within her bones,
Tractless forest her mystic home:
Daughter of Morrigan.

© 2022, Heather Miller