You are not enclosed within your bodies nor confined to houses or fields. That which is you dwells above the mountain and roves with the winds.
Kahlil Gibran
The Touchstone
On Samhain’s night by a waxing moon
the veil was thin, the spirits drew near,
their music was heard in rocks, deep as a drum
beating hard and true against my heart.
I felt them in the Irish mountain rains
whose clouds I follow keenly, like a nun.
I saw them too in the embers of my hearth
and in the candle’s flame.
Today, I scry in my crystal ball
on an Indian summer’s morn,
my tiny cottage windows are open wide.
and sylphs rush in on the breeze.
I pass my dreams to them,
attaching a prayer of hope
that Truth will always prevail,
far and wide, way above treetops.
My dreams can fly with joy
but should they ever fall in pain
I know they will reform
by magic and by alchemy
to form a sacred touchstone for my soul.
Cait O’Connor
3 comments:
Cait, I have read this post and the one just prior very quickly. This is no way for me to read your beautiful posts.
I promise to find the time to return and to read with care all the words about this very unique time of the year.
xo
Cait, this poem is sublime and accompanied by one of my favourite JWW drawings. Isn't she just beautiful?
Jeanne
x
Hello Cait,
Another beautiful poem you have shared with us, thank you Cait, love the drawing too.
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