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Samhain
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2006 Down on the shore tonight
Latis stands,
Stone chalice in hand,
Drinking the bones of harvest.
-High on the tide
a salmon lies,
silver under a pregnant moon,
writhing in the dunes,
-a battered sword aneith his head.
A dark lady.
A kiss.
The gift,
Of soft flesh and sacrifice.
Deep in the earth
the dead pipe sweet tabacco
exhale stories,
of what it is- to live.
Husbands make love- to the ashes-
of their wives,
and children stretch- naked-
over the tombs,
-of their fathers.
This is the remembering.
For Latis,
it is the lifting of a veil.
Making peace with sorrow,
and bedding yesterdays to rest.
This is- the close of days.
-The wheel,
turning spirits from the earth.
-Turning,
dancers to their feet.
-Turning,
palms towards the sky.
-Turning,
mingled screams of last goodbye.
-Turning.
It turns us,
into strangers for a while,
into poets for a while,
into travellers for a while.
On the shore she stands,
with a broken chalice in her hand
She-
became the trees, -the seeds, -the sand,
the Goddess,
of Samhain.
