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The Smith Goddess
by Yvonne Aburrow
A blacksmith's shop, dark rafters hung with night.
The hearth strewn with the embers of nebulae,
Is the Lady's domain.
The sparks from Her anvil are the stars
still traveling from the blow of Her hammer
on Time's sword, etched with runes of power
and plunged into the well of space
to temper its blade.
There also She fashioned
the Cauldron of Immortality:
copper chased with silver,
graven with ancient images.
She kindled the first fire
at the hearth of life,
and with Her bellows of goatskin
breathed life into Her creation.
The marrow of the hills' bones
is of gold and silver.
Once they moved and grew,
the molten larva coursing
over the face of the Earth.
Sometimes they stir in their sleep
disturbed by dreams.
The miners honored her gifts
and the smiths celebrated Her mysteries
hammering the iron in the soul
and forging anew the sword of the spirit.
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