The Oldest Spell
Between the summoning
Seánfhocail
Perspectives of an animist herbalist, poet, and priest on things new and old, human and wild
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Life's One Altar
"[give] thanks for life's one altar" -- Sam Hamill Every crack in my heart is another opening for Green tendrils to vine up from below and remake me, for the waters of an ancient well fed by rains that fell when these mountains were young to flow through me. ii. In the alembic of my heart this grief becomes libation, fermented by memory and sweetened by my whisper of your name iii. The words by…
Ýrungr
i know a stream whose source is in the darkness from which the world was born, i know its torrents and its raging, its meandering and its lapping, i know its course that shapes flood plain and mountain and brings down every wall i know its waters that nourish oak and alder by them alone might i be cleansed by them alone is every curse undone by them alone will this thirst be parched so that i…
discarding the sackcloth
what i learned of being human those years spent speaking through the bars of golden cages did not serve me in the mountain-forest or in the home of she who haunts it: the fear of a fallen nature - when all i have ever prayed for is to sink into the earth, the slipping off my green mantle to don the sackcloth of the penitent -- dishonoring the wild gods and feral human ghosts who wove their dreams…
The sorrow of the land
Brón Trogain and the felling of the forest
Lughnasadh
from The Silver Branch and the Otherworld
Of genies and bottles
“We can’t put the genie back into the bottle.”
In ainm Chroim
ramblings from last summer for the day that is in them
Trí bhrón
Three sorrows
Unbinding
The Evening Primrose blooms beneath the Oak at midnight even now my heart does too. The love that you smuggled breaks me open that I might call up the waters from another time. The life from below rises, drawn up but what you summon ín me infusing everything reminding it of its true form.