The Clootie Tree

The Clootie Tree

An ancient path still beckons,
A weary soul moves on,
Each step destiny reckons,
Priced in prayer and song;

In the mist atop the hill,
A shrub-tree stands forlorn,
Ragged ribbons for the ill
Weigh each thin branch way down;

Sliabh na nDée Dána, this mound
Of three ancient Eire gods ~
Cermait Ogma, honey-mouthed;
Of a Hundred Battles: Conn;

Last, the Dagda, god of good,
His daughter’s worshipped still ~
Noble Brigit’s stone head stood
Upon the misted hill;

Here she mourned a grievous loss,
Ruádán, her own best son,
With wailing cry, her anguish ~
Eire’s first keening echoes on;

Prayers hang upon the tree,
Offered with heartfelt song
To Brigit and the ancient Three,
For relief from ills and wrong;

The breeze blows the Clootie Tree
And tattered prayers wave ~
She sends us ease, in memory
For a son she could not save.

© Alys

28 May 2005

R.I.P.

R.I.P.

Long our battle raged,

Through your icy grasp

Many times, I slipped;

Magnificent Death -

Thou hast me, at last.

© Alys

27 May 2005

My Friend

My Friend

When sadness comes, I call;

Our tears fall down like rain,

A flowing river, healing all

While gently easing pain.

When laughter comes, I call;

Our stomaches ache with joy,

Down our happy tears fall,

Life's jester, our employ.

When anger comes, I call;

Too many times of late,

Our tears of rage a pall,

Blanketing all, our hate.

When Death comes to call,

With sorrow'd souls we'll part,

As our tears remember all,

Yet always, with one heart.

© Alys

10 May 2005

for Lorraine

Childhood Memory (haiku)

Childhood Memory

Still as death I lie
Through torrid fever'd nights
Cool hands ease my brow

© Alys
10 May 2005

Cotton

Cotton

Comes like silk a memory
Of lightning and of storm,
Thunder seals solemnity;
Two hearts beat as one ~
Our love an echoed promise
New, ’tho old as time . . .

© Alys
04 May 2005
~ for Cris