Fierce gentleness swept past me one winter day,
Beautiful, true, yet her nobility unfathomed.
That goddess brushed past in a warrior way,
Her coiffed wildness had quelled many a wasteland.
#
I pursued her down the path to a clearing
Ignoring her bow and quiver, toward her horse,
“Would you dine with me?” my voice imploring.
“My cub needs me. I won’t entertain another.”
#
I saw her clear from that distance, sultry, shy,
sensual, alluring, and very innocent,
An observer of all, friend or foe, far or nigh
Adventurous, creative, she made all.
#
I parried her sword, dodged the javelin thrust.
“But to dine I ask, not a betrothal.”
“Suckled by a mare, for no grub do I lust.
I hunt my food. I am Diana’s daughter.”
#
“I cannot this day,” she feints adeptly.
“How about the next?” I fanned the faint hope she gave.
“Aye,” she says. Exchanging glances, accepting.
I walked in bliss, dazzled by the divine.
#
Three months hence, I wed the goddess.
Trivium guardian of the “Y”, birth, death, guide.
Universes from her womb, sacred brilliance
Wholeness she has brought to this world, a child.
#
Men fear women of power who need them not,
All those who challenge the patriarchal order.
Camilla’s armies of dangerous women,
Live anew, stronger than ever, transformed.
#
To see her is to know a great and loyal friend,
Her aim, clear, universal wholeness in the end.
To dictate to her in any way, is a crime.
Let her run, so fleet, her feet un-dampened by the sea.
#
Camilla, baby Warrior Mary of Volsci thrown
On her father’s spear, her stainless heart Diana’s now.
Her clairvoyance weaves through the collective
As wind brushes a field of wheat, touching, never breaking.
#
The goddess though she be, she serves the deity.
The acolyte is the goddess you see.
Greensboro, NC – September 24, 2020
Ode to my wife, Mary Camilla, based on Book 11 of the Aeneid by Vergil.