Invocation of the Ogham Trees

A strange bird sings through my sleep

Memories of ancient lyrical language

Wind in Ogham trees creaking in the vernal

Peeper frogs chant the stone doorway open in my body

I pull the painted cart through full of old villages

Through crisp leaves of winters past into spring

Garden snake and black ant holes below the moss

 

In the hollow log portal I release my honeyed invocation

Feet turned backwards I walk through the mirror

Between her breasts under the two mounds of my ancestors

With my seed of star dust entering the Milky Way

 

Our voices catch the up draft

In the naming of things of power

Past mind and bones I step out of this drum skin

Riding the white horse with the bee staff of authority

 

I catch her world dreaming into mine

Tiompan being played with swan feathers

Telling me everything I should know

Horns flaming from my skull

In this ancient dance move

I remember the taking and giving of breath

Her weaving of the thousand songs I’ve longed to hear

A gifting of door ways into the heart she shines

Through my pores for all worlds to see

 

 

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