In these days when the gods of a merely recent past
Stir from their graves
Jehovah Jesus and Mohammad
Watching their devotees
Descendants of the desert fathers
Pray for Armageddon
As they battle out old patriarchal feuds

Goddess, Come

We sing our song
Blackbirds bright against blue sky
Wheel and dip into green canopies
Re-membering ourselves
Before they were, we were.
A black masculinity covers their women
Some praise the prisons they embrace.

Goddess, Come, Liberate

When we were younger
We said it was the last gasp of the patriarchy
A long drawn out battle-cry
From the wounded heart of men
And women born from their broken ribs
Religion as evil, death-driven
Endless fields of yellow stars, crosses and crescents

Goddess, Come, Liberate Them

We had thought we were progressing well
But our task has hardly begun
Our song must reach a deeper pitch, a higher tone
Before Gaia turns against this plague of humans
Let us align with Her in humility and courage
Listen to the Magic Words hidden in
The Valley of the Light of Life

Goddess, Come, Liberate Us

©Leona Graham-Elen