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Page: Profile: Poetry
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Poem Specs
VxPoem ID: 17047
Category:
pagan_spirituality
Posted: October 15th. 2005 8:29:28 AM
Views: 1513 |
Against Your Longest Coldest Night
by Cernunnos Poetry
Age Group: Adult
)
O
(
October 14, 2006
Against Your Longest Coldest Night
)
O
(
Though the seasons cycle yet
in the dancing planets’ eternal mirth
the course of another year is charted
in the ebb of and flow of life and birth
- Love reborn and once again departed -
There was no fitting hand-parting
to end our cosmic quasi-marriage
since a bitter mistake, no sweet departing,
just a godlessly unjust miscarriage
We would have had such a beautiful girl.
Nothing’s ever since been right with the world.
Turmoil follows in tragedy’s wake.
No miracle since has even been wonderous
since your silent withdrawal from Hope.
Eighteen months ago, we should have been
a conjurin’ summer in
Instead we were sending each other down
down into our longest, loneliest night
So out of natural rhythm and rhyme.
So horribly out of sync and time.
No wonder Samhain was so strange last fall
what with the wildly dancing moon and all...
Premonitions fulfilled with the red eclipse
and the lone wolf (that beautiful bitch) .
Though what a miraculous time was ours
between those two red umbral moons
eclipsed and stained with our own blood.
Two hearts that flew too close to the fire
recklessly riding our dark horse of desire.
Oh how could anyone have survived
the beautiful intensity of that
scorching cosmic firestorm...?
And the fall...?
Let alone love again.
We’ll be better for it yet, I swear.
I will make it so:
Erce Erce Erce
Earthan Modar
Dance us back to middle earth
with your shining Samhain partner tonight
Erce Erce Erce
Embrace us Mother Earth
Enfold us again in your rhythmic cycles
Let us give up this bitter losing fight
against your own beautiful Nature.
Feel me now in the gathering dark
my breath cool now at the nape of your neck
whispering now where once there was only heat
offering you back the harmony we’ve known
for three thousand generations ...
And know therein
is cold comfort, sanity, beauty, and peace
and profound happiness
And know that they are all still here among us.
Feel the gathering chill now in my touch
my hands brown and dry now as leaves
collecting still precious harvest seeds
offered to give you back your future
And know
Only you can germinate these seeds
and if you don’t others will take your place
So it doesn’t really matter...
Look at the gathering hunger in my eyes
see the hunter in me now returning
soon to walk and ride the great distances
tirelessly pursuing nourishment
to feed the Life that shines within you now
And know that the deer we take down
are Given, not taken at all
That I, when knee-deep
in crimson speckled snow
and elbow-deep in steaming blood
am no more a thoughtless killer
than any one of you among us
And quite likely less.
Listen now to the stillness of my heart
hardening like the morning ice on the marsh
promising to shelter the now dormant seed
and delicate soft sleeping flesh below
from the killing harshness of elements above.
Through ice I offer you warmth and love.
And know that
this is about complimentary opposites
that darkness is to Light
what the long night is to Day
and without death Life is nothing at all...
O Death, our ally, you have always been there for me
There for you too. Look! Death offers so much,
perched as it always is,
just behind your left shoulder.
Smell now my essence in what you cannot see.
I am the first faint whisp of apple woodsmoke
carried acrid and sweet on a frosty autumn breeze
Offering you the warmth that is yours,
Comfort on the coldest winters night,
Light and Hope in your darkest winters night.
And know
that this is all about cyclic change
and that I’ll still be on my knees
until you say “Come back, please”
or I’ll just root here among the trees
You see it really doesn’t matter...
Dream now the dreams gathering in me
take these empty hopes haunting me now
and sow them in your unknowing unborn
take this inheritance of ancient memories
for whatever it is worth!
And know therein is a legacy
Yet still only seeds of ancient wisdom
It will be up to you to cultivate them
It will be up to posterity to harvest them
There are no books ‘will help us with this.
So dream with me:
Over moonlit white November fields
I’ll be the white-tailed deer you’ll see
through your piercing yellow eyes.
Knowing she-wolf you are proving to be.
Under barren lichen encrusted limestone
beneath December snows, lying warm there
I dream the long cold hungry tome
of our sleeping brother bear.
Find our sign in January’s drifts
where the hare’s trail abruptly ends
- between the imprint of your wing tips -
Is that my death the night sky stealthily sends?
Or do we just both take flight?
I’ll be February’s great grey owl
You’ll find me where I’ve waited
Perched in your old elm tree
Behind my blank stare I’ll still be elated
when you smile back at me.
You and I will be there
among 6 billion snow fleas
dancing on a sunny March afternoon
celebrating again the gathering Light
and the promise of summer’s warmth soon
And in April the Sun will reach for you
shining warm, replenished and new
I will be the Sun reaching for you too
and the ice melting for you
the water filling up your empty well
I will be the spring peepers singing for you
the woodland pond appearing for you
the faerie shrimp disappearing for you
I’ll be the woodcock sky-dancing for you
the leaves of grass greening for you
the fiddle-heads unfurling for you
the wild leeks nourishing you
the blue cohosh healing of you
a new strong fawn Forgiving you
and all of spring’s Beauty
mirroring you.
I’ll be the newborn child reaching for you.
Shining warm, strong, replenished and new
- against your longest winter’s waning night -
Author's Location: Rural Central, Ontario
More Poems: Cernunnos Poetry has posted 642 additional poems- View them?
Author's Profile: To learn more about Cernunnos Poetry - Click HERE
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