by Deborah Hollins
As we move into the dark time, I wanted to share a poem I wrote to give heart that the light is always with us.
She stood upon the feverish sands,
with lonely heart,
and empty hands,
as the mists gently offered
damp kisses to her cheeks.
The wind aroused her crimson tresses
to dance like the folds
of silken dresses,
upon the breeze that cooled
her disheartened countenance.
The sea heaved truly before her,
akin to the lover
who once adored her,
when lips did touch and
fingers met skin warm and soft.
With robes sweeping wildly Erin green,
she looked as a shade
in a child’s dream,
which walks on air whispering
silent covenants.
As she gave witness the sun did set
upon the crest
of the waves it met,
till darkness cloaked her
within a ravens embrace.
She stood on the shore, her eyes beholden
to the full moon
it’s visage golden,
bleeding pure light
upon her furrowed brow.
And when the moon did reach its’ peak,
standing in waters
cold and deep,
she raised her hands
to the stars above.
“Arianrhod, I call to thee,
Mother of the
Sacred Three,
pray thee hear my petition
in beautiful Caer Arianrhod.
My lover tis dead, my clan tis scattered,
all that to me
has ever mattered,
has slipped through my hands
which once were strong.
And I know not why I have been cursed.
nor why upon me
this scourge loosed,
in your woven tapestry
that is my life.”
Seen through a tear that doused her eye,
the Silver Wheel
in the sky,
began to spin and
whirled a shining path.
A thread of light did gently land
upon the sodden
moonlit sand
and from it’s brilliance
a woman buoyed forth.
Her radiance lit the seaside far,
as round her flamed
the hallowed stars,
that were the celestial
lanterns of Emania.
Then from her mantle did she lift
a silver scepter
with amber tip
and pointed to the
rolling sea.
“Turn ye waters from this shore
and from this one
who does implore
from me the answers to
still her heavy grief.
For I shall not to her bestow
the answers she fosters
within her soul,
nor will your waters
give her release.
No coward stands here.”
Anon the waters did recede
and from the woman
took their leave,
till her sodden form
stood bathed in Goddess light.
Then the Mother looked upon her face
with tender eye, and
with soothing grace
Her ancient voice
drifted melodically to her ear.
“The lyceum in Emania holds
a thousand warriors,
brave and bold
whom answered the call to
battle with their lives.
And as I move through the passageway,
I ask each one
what they would say,
now that they have left behind
what they held dear.
Nary one has spoken yet
of suffering, bitterness,
nor regret.
Instead they speak of gratitude
for having been.
So listen Daughter to what I say
within my light
you shall find your way,
you need only make the journey
to who you are.”
Then the Goddess disappeared
and with Her took
all the woman feared
sweet warmth replaced the coldness
of her soul.
Turning now toward the path
that would take her home
she heard a laugh
and knew she would never again
journey alone.
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