THAT WAS WHEN:

That was the time I was born; SPRING. In leafy gowns of olive trees & chocolate carobs, ancient figs, orange blossoms & pungent peppercorns. It was the time of waltzing swallows when poppies kissed wheat-fields & lavender perfumed the balmy air. That was the time I was born.

That was the time I fell in love; SUMMER. Of full moons, heat kissed dust & bodies slick with ocean brine & salted sweat, when love & ripe roses mingled with lust & ruby wine, while storks watched sinful errings from ancient steeples on high. That was when I fell in love.  

That was the time I became; AUTUMN. Wife & mother, matured with the sun-blessed honey of buzzing bees, the last of wiped away tears & scuffed knees. The nest flown with birds gone & leaves, red, copper, gold, away all blown. Wheat harvested & mead maturing in the keg. That was when I became.

That was when my end arrived; WINTER. When boughs were brown & bent & my old womb well spent, when the sky was daubed in grey & ice cracked the earth. My heart divided in two, as the apple seed spliced, half to die, half to be born again anew. That was when my end arrived.

EXCURSION:

I need to walk through silent forests where innocence breathes & trees caress the canopy of stars. I must wander the small islands of Lindisfarne, Iona & the like, where the weather converses with the heart & tears wash the stained glass windows & cleanses the tired soul. Let me see the Celtic knots upon the Holy books of monks & know the mystic Groves of chanting Druids. To dip my fingers into Brigit’s well & kiss the selkies of legend’s tales. I must feel the whispering mists, the whipping winds wrapping me in their winter arms. And I shall sit upon hard cold rocks, brine washed with century´s charms. At night I shall kneel & pray, upon land´s ancient sod & I’ll sleep deep beneath the opal moon, upon the earth of God.

DRIFTINGS:

Drifting, pretty plumed birds flying upon the sky,

Eagles on thermals, portraits painted up on high,

Breath of sleeping babies & of dead lover´s sigh,

Old souls leaving bodies, on clouds that drift & die.

Drifting, tunes on tongues, released upon the song,

Confessions of sinners in pews, knowing the wrong,       

Prisoner released from shackles, biting & so strong,

End of pain & suffering, when life feels so very long.

Drifting, petals from floral posies & confetti thrown,

Leaves from autumn trees, upon sad breezes blown,

Kisses wafting, alighting upon soft cheeks unknown,

Seed & sins upon wailing earth & by man duly sown.

Drifting, shed plume, filigreed ice-flake, cold spat rain,

Upon the ether from the aura, in joy, anguish & pain,

Dissipating into nothing, only to form & be born again,

Drifting away in dreams, keeping us just barely sane.

WENDING WAYS:

Although I am weary & wary, I´m wending my way,

Through bright moony nights & the sunshine of day,

I tiptoe through dark forests & deep bluebell woods,

Passing old wells, wolves & chanting Druids in hoods,

With pixies peep-peeping & brown bears deep sleeping,

I know I am safe in the forest folk´s gentle soft keeping.                                   

I wend my melodic way, through Viennese old dance halls,

Gliding through cloisters & churches of mossy stone walls,

Tripping thru fields of red poppies & pretty white daisies,

Beneath raindrops, snowflakes & skies dark, grey & hazy,

I plod through clouds of black sadness & thick heavy mud,

Through every season, till I see spring´s first flowering bud.

Wending all ways, over oceans, seas & through many skies,

Walking through time, from birth until the day that I´ll die,

Walking in spirit, down paths & those long winding roads,

Shedding as I go, life´s tribulations & it’s sad heavy loads,     

And so when my time comes, to go to God´s waiting side,

I shall wend my way home, knowing that I had really tried.

SEARCHING FOR ME:

From my rocking chair, now frail, old & grey,

I wend my journey; now go on my wary way,

I go searching for that person that I call me,      

But I´m seeking the person who I used to be.

I am looking for my soul in its original form,

Over fields & mountains where the sky is torn,

Paths, roads & byways, of my lingering long life,

Through the child, maid, mother & faithful wife.

Where´s she gone, the one who gave all her best?

To parents, husband & those babes at her breast,

Where is that person, she once thought she knew?

They all dipped & sipped from her & away they flew.

Raised, worked, loved, given of herself & all she had,

Loving all in her wake & she never dared to be bad,

By life & love, she felt beaten, very tired & whipped,

Left now alone, frail & of her identity sorely stripped.

Deep within herself & within the deep, dead of night,

She found the path she knew, the one that was right,

Into the arms of Angels, she walked her way back home,

Knowing that life was a journey she had travelled alone.