A rhyme written for the Spring Equinox
and the Gorsedd of the Bards
at Avebury, Wiltshire
*
For all the night she trod the furrowed earth
As she has walked all winter in her wake
In seeking for the child she brought to birth
The maiden bride whom Hades chose to take
…
The gibbous moon is waxing to the bright
And shedding shifting shadows on the lands
One single moonbeam spills down through the night
Upon the rutted earth on which she stands
…
Made heavy by the weight of mother’s tears
The ground beneath her feet begins to yield
The imprint of a child’s foot appears
Emerging from the darkness of the field
…
The dawn is tinting grey the silken skies
The lifting mist moves gulls to take the air
She swears she hears these words within their cries
She comes, she comes, she comes, is nearly there…
…
Around the hill of Silbury swirl the springs
From many sources meeting there as one
Upon the fence a bardic blackbird sings
His songs of seasons ended and begun
…
The heron stands in wait down by the brook
The willows’ leaves weave rills upon the stream
The cormorant is fishing for the rook
Whose shadow shapes a fish from daybreak’s gleam
…
From alder trees drip drops of ancient dew
Like shining crystals, in to waters deep
The grey of morn becomes a brighter blue
New lambs are woken from the dark womb’s sleep
…
A muffled drumbeat pounds within her bones
Thrills through her feet and trembles in her chest
Draws from four corners people of the stones
To stand and lay the winter to his rest
…
Can it be so, she thinks, that she will come
And willingly escape the thrall of Hades
Be called by this fast beating of the drum
To dance among the wild lords-and-ladies
…
The drum, the drum, the Druid in the East
The daylight shattering the glass of night
Behold the mead and cake that form the feast
Behold the glorious blessing of the light
…
The blazing gorse flames yellow on the hill
Bright shafts of sun surround the Druid’s head
She comes, she comes, my daughter liveth still
Released at last from fathoms of the dead
…
Her eyes are purple crocuses; her hair
Is woven through with wood anemones
She shocks the eyes, her presence is so rare
And strong, as hyacinths upon the breeze
…
She wears the sun a-shimmer on her dress
In folds of drops of snow and celandines
And, as befits she with the power to bless
Comes riding on a stag of seven tines
…
She speaks unto the awed and silent crowd
“I come” she says “I bring the fire of life
I come to cast my seeds on fields ploughed
To quell your hunger and relieve your strife
…
I bring you daylight from the depths of hell
Where I with Hades am forever wed
Of Christ and Dionysus I shall tell
In sacred stories of the risen dead”
…
The crowd are stunned to silence, robbed of breath
She came, she came, brought winter to his knees
Defied the dreadful tide of dark and death
To bless the ground with shoots, and trees with leaves
…
The ancient Druid offers up the cup
The wine of her libations there to sip
He bows his head, as down she stoops to sup
And touch the cup upon her rosy lip
…
And with this act the sunlight floods the sky
The spell is broken by the touch of earth
And Demeter runs forward with a cry
To hold the maiden that she brought to birth
…
The seasons come, the seasons go, and all
Shall rise and fall and fade and reappear
And Spring shall once more answer to the call
Of Hades at the dying of the year
…
But here, by mother love and heat of day
Persephone is made a child again
To run upon the hills; to dance and play
And plant her flowers in the world of men
*
© Gail Foster 2016
gailfromdevizes 