Poet Priestess – A Poem

So revered had she become
That other scholars travelled
Hard days for her counsel

The motes she bestowed
Could be sold for sums
Which bought whole lives

Remembering her roots
Each month she visited
The town square

Offering advice for free
To raise an unknown poet
From poverty

Today she addresses me out
Of the longing crowd
Takes me aside

“Ask me anything” she says
“You have ten words,
to shape your question.”

“Oh my,” I reply,
“I can’t believe
you’re willing to help me.”


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