|
April 13, 2003
|
Prayerby bethroot gwynne
Hail Nerthus! Anti-war Goddess of old. Where are You, Nerthus? Come. Come now. Come running With your red wagon bumping over the battlefield. The battlefields have become supermarkets, restaurants, Bus stops, refugee camps, churchs, temples, mosques. Hurry! The soldiers have become children. Just say the word, and guns will not fire. One glance From You, grenades will not explode, bombs will fall flat. Come, with Your holy force field, Turn landmines into fruits for starving peoples. Life one finger, mighty Nerthus, and tripper Peace. Monkeywrench the machines of war with Your Love, Dull the blade, catch the missile, grab the detonator. Pile Your wagon high with dead weapons, Cart them off the edge of earth. Charm bullets into rain for thirsty ground. Goddess! Send us Mercy, irresistible. Flood the halls of power, the tents of the dispossessed With Mercy. Still with Mercy the command to shoot, bulldoze, launch. Inspire with Mercy, O Nerthus, to the ends of the earth. Hurry! Nerthus, Hurry!
Bethroot Gwynn has been living on wimmin's land for 27 years, growing food, art, ritual, and is the author of many beautiful poems. This one is reprinted from WeMoon Calendar 03. |