Another in my ongoing series of poems based on ogham, the ancient Irish alphabet. Come now with the glow of it, rising a tide, upwelling of shame, the blood leashed … Continue reading Ogham poem: Ruis/Redness
Anger changes nothing. It does not mend
the broken cup or soothe the crying child.
It does not tend crops or fold the laundry
or enclose the wounded with love. Anger
smashes the glass on the tile, dumps the basket,
reduces the lover to tears with a word.
It rips up seedling along with the weeds,
accuses the innocent along with
the guilty, stacking the logs for the pyre.
It intoxicates, a child with matches
drunk on the light, that flare of sulfur-scent,
that wild giddy joy as a world burns down
As part of my daily practice, I write a poem of at least nine lines. As a Druid priestess, naturally some of these poems express spiritual experiences, or explore mythology. … Continue reading Poetry dump: Poems featuring mythology, trance vision and other musings