Part 2: Metamorphoséd Maid
Amongst mountain thorn and thistle Orena
Wandered, lost daughter, she reconciled not
Her guilt, touched by evil, stain upon her
Heart, she abandoned musical bells of her
Flocks for thick spruces, silenced gloom,
Where no light or love dared shine, for
Months thus was her self-imposéd plight.
Tired and unwashed, Orena stumbled upon
Rocky glen, clear waters running, flowers
Blooming in radiant sunlight, immersed
In depths, she disappeared from sight,
Whether to drown or to re-emerge, to begin
Life anew. Exhaling bubbling breath, she so
Sank, nude body and soul willingly yielded.
Yet, Orena did not die, whether by her will
Or buoyant wave, she arose from watery grave
To blossoming banks, instilled with beaming
Eyes, deific fire and flame, O! Metamorphoséd
Maid, no longer enslaved by poisonous pain,
Her heart divinely wounded, she had eternity
Glimpsed, love’s luminous stream.
Visions of frightful and fantastical, Orena
Knew both evil and wondrous transformation.
Her heart consumed by fiercer fires, to her
Family she returned, traveling amongst
Pastoral tribes, salutation of high meadows,
Wind motion of trees, she consoled those
Whose hearts were sorrow-eclipsed.
Amongst leafy pools and murmuring streams
Orena led those who followed her, mountain
Flocks she tended with prayers rising high to
Purple air, Orena’s eyes mirroring heaven,
Alas, deific skies. For which god or goddess
Orena spoke, she never disclosed, some said
Abundant One, healing woes of mortal souls.
How we find and define divinity is unique to each
of us. Ancients saw divine as wind moving trees,
motion of life. Gods were worshiped in rustic
ceremonies at glens and glades, at springs and
holy fonts. Orena experienced an Ovidian meta-
morphosis, first touched by evil and then by
divine rebirth. O! The fiercer flame!