Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘land’

CAILLEACH SAYS

.

This is what the

Cailleach says:

I have outlived you,

Outlived the fighting men

With their angry religions,

Their need to keep memory to themselves.

I have forgotten the years, forgotten even my names,

Forgotten all the homes belonging to myself and my daughters.

I walk about, best you if you challenge me.

I do not care that you live or die

Because you shall live and die.

Myself, my daughters, somehow

Avoiding the slaughter, avoiding the bombs,

Avoiding the pious, unholy glory of it all.

Living here and there, bringing luck,

Bringing healing,

Bringing you down-to-earth.

Where are we now?

I am the smoky one, the drift of smoke

Through your desolate city,

The ragged one, the forgotten one

Who cares for the small things,

Who teaches my daughters

To bend and survive, to make bread,

To give milk, to circle around edges,

To pick up the pieces that remain.

The thieves will come,

The do-good priests with their tall tales,

And the old men with their aches and jibes,

And the farmers with their complaints,

And the wind with its news of another war

Made by men.

And we shall remain,

Ragged, unnamed, silent, alone.

Us and our daughters

Holding on to the world.

With our keening and our shroud-clothes.

Waiting to wash the bones clean.

Waiting for goodness to be noticed.

The storm washes clean the slaughter-stone.

Moonlight on the darkening path.

.

Read Full Post »

Llym Awel, second stanza. Improvisations.

IMG_1288.JPG

Ton tra thon, toid tu tir;
Goruchel guaetev rac bron banev bre;
Breit allan or seuir
.

The alliteration of the first line rolls and rumbles like the waves that are described therein, then stutters and becomes harsh as the roaring sound is described, followed by a diminishing gentleness of the vanquished sloping land. The last line has a shocked gulping sadness, or an amazed sorrow. It frames and positions the narrator in an emotional as well as a natural landscape.

“Wave on wave, covering the side of the land;
Very loud the roar against the high hill;
A wonder anything remains.”

IMG_1289.JPG

Wave tops wave.
A coupling clamber
A mating roar,
cast seed
spray spume.
Before one, before all,
up sloping land.
Seige unopposed,
howled hunger thrown,
A wild encroachment,
a burst breach
Long and longer reach,
a tumble.
The high hill groans.
What can stand,
what can stay?
From this slide skywards,
From this steep,
utter submergence?

IMG_1290.JPG

Read Full Post »

THE GIVING OF NAMES (continued part2)

4
DUMNONII

Wrapped deeply
Within the green fold,
The red red bones
Of the mother beneath us.
We, the ones of the deep,
Self-buried in rich soil, become the world,
Who are the world, who recognise the deep,
Resounding valley, water fed, oak shaded.
We are the sound of deep drums,
The rolling thunder on the high moor
Where the red soil rolls back to wrapped valley
And all is weathered grey earth bone, and
The high, wild airs where the dead still live,
The ones who watch, sturdy, rooted.
We are the ones who return, who sleep deep,
Pile on ourselves, ourselves, mulched, turned.
Who feeding, feed the land when we sleep,
Who climb the steeps and cry the clouds down,
Raven -bright our eye, hawk -sure our grip.
We sound, resound, reverberate

( the Dumnonii of Devon in the SW of England, where I live, and the Damnonii of the rolling lands of western Scotland inland from the Ayrshire coast, both derive their names from the root words for “deep” and “earth”. The Dumnonii were unusual at the time in that they buried their dead, rather than using cremation.)

20130323-095633.jpg

Read Full Post »