Nott's Maiden

Gentle hands stole the peaceful slumber,

Bringing searing reality into focus.

Knowledge of survival eluded this mind,

Yet so welcoming this lulling warmth be.

Oils and ointment are applied softly

To wounds Celts themselves inflicted.

This maiden's eyes held remorse for this pain,

Stiffening each time this body trembles.

This purity undeserving of sorrow,

Needing this sweet nectar these cracked lips receive.

Great Goddess Nott, be shielding of hostel eyes,

Encase this healer with your mythic shadow

So that in another time and place,

This man may repay this innocent soul's efforts.

This pearl is to be close in another dawn.