simonhlilly

THESE WORDS

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These words we feed around our firesides,

They are the seeds that feed us.

These words, the sustaining grain.

By them we will be filled,

By them, we reach out and touch others.

By them, we find songs and sing.

By them, we see visions.

By them, we feel edges and give names.

By them, the sudden scent of memories floods in,

The healing waters, the healing well.

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In these words are the songs of our forebears, their dances.

The words we use, they flavour our world.

They are our beer, our bread, our whisky, our offerings.

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These words mean more than they say,

Each filled with spirits, each a ghost coming home.

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We plant them here to grow, to become forest roots,

To become the patterns between stars.

They are the rivers in the oceans,

They are the paths our ancestors have always taken,

Moving on from land to shining land,

Hearth to hearth across the dancing skies.

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