2
Weavers of the Sidhe
Two came at twilight
From the rath,
Cold with curiosity,
Small as children
But with strange eyes
And smiles too old,
Far too old.
To see who it was
Carried the silence
By the shore
That was not the grey heron’s;
To judge the cry of one
Neither curlew nor oystercatcher;
To weigh the harsh throat
Not of the hooded crow
Nor of the raven.
To find the mote
In sunlit attic,
It’s dance to forgotten harp
Dusted earth, dreamt melody –
Dream nerves tied to sing of rock,
To follow the dancing road.
When they speak
Small blue flames flicker
Upon their tongues.
Their eyes –
Corridors of starlight
From distant galaxies.
Their thin fingers
Cat’s cradling
the centuries.
They are the same
Our ancestors knew:
Changeless,
Dissolving in midday light,
Returning at twilight
With shadows dancing.
They belong to place,
But not to time.
They are the rolling,
Rising, blue distance-
Yearned for,
Unattainable.
3
The Secret Commonwealth
Cast out,
Cast down
From Heaven’s brilliance.
Not falling for the passion of rage,
Nor swayed by the unforgiving violence
Of righteousness,
(The simple, clear lie
of polarities, justice, truth).
Condemned by the Most High
For failing to take sides.
Falling down,
Down
Into twilight.
Neither here nor there,
Backwards or forwards.
It is why they flock to song,
Delight in the poet,
To what moves by its stillness,
What reverberates with passion,
Profound ephemera,
Guileless illusion,
Flash of gold,
Uncertain Reality.
Shot-silk seasons
Rich with the Opposite.
Reflection on reflection,
Echoed echoes.
Not dead, nor living
They are the rolling, rising blue distance,
The accumulation of dream,
Repository of yearning,
Perfume of nostalgia.
The processions, the slow
Dance:
Terrestrial constellations
Caught sight of peripherally,
Oblique,
Canny,
Ambivalent,
Unnerving.
Bane of priests,
Defiers of logic.
Snake language – fast
And sparkling.
A danger to mortal dreamers
Who might fade
Into the world,
Feather roots merging,
Knowing and edges blurred
Into the song of presence.
Perhaps returning,
(if at all)
With a fragment of lament,
An air,
A pavan,
A secret wrenched from time,
Lost within time again,
A wonder,
A treasure,
A mystery unholy,
Disengaging from certainty.
simonhlilly 