Bitch Maiden
She is woman, she is the bitch.
He is man, he is the warrior.
They, are the mystery of the myth.

He, makes his way, slowly, stalking her as he would his prey at dusk,
She, hiding, becomes impatient with his prodding,
With his relentless Warrior hunting
She retreats into the darkness, unseen and she, illudes.

She, is like the sea, calm and fierce
He, is like the wind, changing as he blows
She, the mother, lover and wise woman of their divine
He, the father, friend and preacher to the rest.

She sees, she feels.
He hopes, she does not see, does not hear
and will not know.
He, is coming to her
Hoping, at first light, he will catch his prey.
Where is she hiding?
Why is she hiding?
Where has my fair maiden gone?

He, the hunter, emerges in the Warrior
He, thinks
He spies her from afar.
Alas, she shows herself.

Where has my fair maiden gone, says the hunting Warrior.
And the bitch reveals her snarling fangs.
She, replies, trusting, bleeding and breathing.
He, will hunt her no more.
She, is now the bitch maiden
Who haunts and humiliates the hunting Warrior
She, gorging herself on his fear, knows.

She is safe with her babes,
Licking her wounds,
Tasting the salty sweetness of revenge and his uneasiness.
They, in this place and time,
are the greatest mystery of betrayal and pain.

Stacey Cotton, January 2001
(WWTW, Lutherhill, TX, 1998)