2005 LUGHNASADH/IMBOLC LONG POEM ENTRIES

[MorningStar]

Wow you guys still amaze me, ya know how much of an honor it is to say i know you talented folks....ADT congrats on working up the nerve to enter always liked this your first poem ever. Its about time you did enter it.

[serenita]

Unbreakable

Pictures of before of a world dark with pain
Are fading now like the last drops of rain.
The hours of sadness, the loss and the tears
Replaced for now by a new set of fears.
I've travelled so far without hope to guide me
Through storms and through rainbows without love beside me,
Two souls travelled with me, full of youth and delight
Their strength, ever present, in the foulest of nights.
For them I kept trying to forgive and forget
Sacrifice made, yet no compromise met.
Aggression, debasement, assault on my being
What blindness was it that kept me from seeing
That no promise made would ever be true
That the anger and rage came from inside of you?
You hurt me, you laughed and you called me a liar
Did you ever look long enough to see the fire
That burned deep within with the passion of ages?
Could you see how it burned through all of your rages?
The flames flickered bravely, but grew steadily dim
Until a breath of air came that let freedom in.
And how you loathed it, my power returning
The flames of light that kept embers burning
I struggled against you and harder you fought
In arrogance believing you would never be caught.
The boys growing older, with their own eyes they saw it
Did you truly believe they would always ignore it?
My strength grew in stages and I knew that I could
But I was never sure that truly I would
Leave you and your spirit so shrivelled and weak
Who me? your wife, so good and so meek?
Exhaustion, relief and some echoes of sadness
But finally free of the helterskelter madness
Of never knowing, hearing your key in the door
Of living in fear, never safe and secure.
Long months have passed, a new dawn has risen
Resolute I stand, free of that prison
Hate that gnawed at my heart for so long
Eases now that my spirit grows strong.
I look to the future, pray for calm times ahead
Enjoying the safety, alone in my bed.
Challenges face me, to be met without fear
Those two youthful souls, with love, always near
Together we stand, a unit of three,
Together unbreakable, my boys and me.

[Crow]

Note: The following poem was written by Solasdana, and has been moved to this thread by the moderator in accordance with line-limit rules. :raven:


“Taking the Waters”
©2005/Frank MacEowen
inspired by Diana Der-Hovanessian

When your mother dies, say the Irish,
the form of her body becomes your own.
Allow her curves to remind you of true
nourishment.

When your mother dies, say the Welsh,
The mountains that occupied the horizon
line of her eyes become your doorway to dreaming.
May her visions remind you of possibility.

When your mother dies, say the Scots,
the daily tasks of banking the fire,
kneading bread, cooing bairns to sleep,
become your own.
May the great cycle of this holy work
make you soft of heart but sturdy of mind.

When your mother dies, say the Bretons,
you will hear your name called out once more
from meadows you played in as a child.
May the soft voice you hear on the wind
remind you of your true home.

When your mother dies,
say the Druids among them all,
man or woman,
you become a mother to the world.

You must “take the waters,”
easing your body
down into a healing pool
at dusk.
There you will be re-born
from the Mother
who gave birth
to your mother.

[Crow]

Note: The following poem was written by Solasdana, and has been moved to this thread by the moderator in accordance with line-limit rules. :raven:


"Hail-Splitter: The Ph.D. in Cailleach Studies"
::dedicated to those who dare the -real- walk,
and to those who avoid it::
©2005/Frank MacEowen/SOLASDANA

There comes a time,
often in the dead of night,
when the real elders will appear.
Some are still and quiet,
patiently watching;
others will make a choice
to draw near.

One is a spirit, a goddess,
known by many names,
and is particularly fierce
in her evening countenance.
If she speaks to you in dream,
or within your own heart,
in the end,
there is no denying it.

Even the brave shiver
when in her midst,
this:
Bringer of Hail,
Queen of Storms,
Crone of the Ever-Widening Mists.
The grandfathers say:
“She’ll pummel you
with the hard-truth of your fear,
and throw lightning into your soul
from her waving fists.”

Her knobby fingers pull back a door
revealing the real work
of the real terrain.
When she opens it up,
the silly games are over;
there’s no going back,
no hope of refrain.

Dark-cloaked,
and veiled,
she slides the blade
of the old tradition
across all you were working on.
The frivolous false-self evaporates.
You finally comprehend transformation.

She laughs at all this nonsense today:
Purple robes, starry sequins,
unchecked Harry Potter narcissism.

She splits the hail,
and barks her instructions,
“Fast,
three nights,
on my mountain.
Then you’ll understand Druidism!”

note: the Cailleach in primal Irish and Scottish
beliefs is experienced as an initiatory force in the
living wisdom-traditions today. Not a concept, or mere
"idea," whole lineages and traditions exist in Ireland
around working with the Cailleach energies. She is
purveyor of wisdom, an active protector of the land
and sacred sites, like the Hill of Tara, and other
places on the earth....She is watching.