A voice from the Dark Age
Do thousands of black birds still gather
and chatter in the winter twilight?
Do you stand there now and stare,
keeping watch across the flattest lands,
from ancient tracks across the mere?
See the first crowds of shade arrive on far horizons,
massive clouds of darkness sweep the nodding reed beds.
Murmuration rises and falls, a dusky rumour,
and forms perfect changing shapes
against the coldness of a fading sky.
Trees are dense with this veil,
but there is a lightness in the air –
the whispering wind of a million wings.
Is this the only sound you hear over the ancient land,
as you walk the tracks across the mere?
Do the dykes still
hold back the water,
are the lakes calm
and clear;
do they mirror the
early morning light
as you walk the
tracks across the mere?
When you go to
hunt for game,
are the swans ruffling
in reedbeds and
do the seedheads echo
the surface calm;
and does the
bittern’s boom carry across the flats?
Or does all the
land still flood on the higher tides?
and are the tracks
then lost below the seas?
When the waters
rise so high are your boats ever ready;
do you like to go
out to fish in the freshening breeze?
And is Ynys Witrin
your constant reference –
the point of all
beginnings and endings.
High above all waterlines,
does that sentinel
yet watch over this dreamy land?
Do you feel us
here?
Does that island even
now hold our power in its hand?
Tell me this, come
close,
are the veils always
thin, do the crystals see?
Are the great
stones silent standing,
do you guard that
gateway by the old thorn tree?
Is
the mystery of the magic still at work,
is
there yet a wildness here?
Do
the pilgrims ever come looking for their peace,
are they walking the tracks across the mere?
And do
the monks live quietly in their caves,
are
the hermits sometimes seen through the haze?
Do
the springs rise again to give you sacred water
and do you collect
it from the wells?
Is it calm and
pure and does it heal your ills?
Does the stream
pour over mossy banks
from the rocks
where Brighed guards?
And does she forever
inspire the poets
and give new
stories to the Bards?
Do you meet to rejoice
in the seasons here;
and the phases of
the moon?
Is Samhain still
the enchanted turn of year?
Do you dance with
joy at Beltane,
walk the fire with
lightest step?
Do you watch the flames
of Imbolc leap?
Are the goddesses
spinning the web?
Are the Pagan deities
celebrated,
is there revelling
and feasting here?
And do you still
walk the tracks across the mere?
Ancient walkways
created in the oldest time
still cross our
watery space,
but are they yet there
for you?
Do our worlds
collide in this fantastic place?
Do you make to honour
all your ancestors?
do you feel them in
your genes,
are they there in
your daily chores
and in your
darkest night-time dreams?
Do you remember
me?
As the days are
ending and the veil is fine
do you seek out
your kinfolk and honour the divine?
Do you still walk
the tracks across the mere? Do you now
gather in the
great hall to speak your poetry for all to hear?
Is Boewulf’s loud story
told at your great feasting nights?
Do you long to
hear those tales of the monsters and the fights?
Is the hall filled
with voices, is there music and dance,
do they drink from
golden cups; and do you look for romance?
And when the
laughing is over and the dawn is here,
do you still walk
the tracks across the mere?
*From a series,
Landscape of Voices. The voice in this poem is that of a woman in who lived in
west Wales and then Avalon around 650-700AD. While I was on the Somerset levels
one day early in the year I tried to imagine what a person from that time would
say to us if we could meet today. This is what came.
I was pleased to have this poem, which was written more than three years ago, accepted for inclusion in the 2015 Samhain Special (Part One), published by the fabulous Three Drops from a Cauldron. Part Two is also now available. Go here to read more: http://threedropspoetry.co.uk/2015/10/01/samhain-special-2015-part-one-is-out-now/
©2015JackieBiggs
