Here is the poem I wrote out on a paper napkin in grateful tribute to Joe McGowan for his wonderfully eloquent story telling that brought tears to my eyes and which I recited to you at the dinner just after our visit to Yeats’ grave etc. Its the epitaph of a female student for her female teacher and from a book I am working on currently. It is also rooted in the pagan, deep ecological modalities that I choose to live by. Lalanath - I kept my promise to post this on the blog my friend.
I was born in storm of roses and thorn
Into murk made of mixture of sorrow and song
And felled to a ground to feed from a soil
Full of serpent in turmoil and tiger in toil.
Yet, her dark eyes sliced through the fear to the fall
Past a mind milking madness to a heart held in thrall
And cheating my destiny of sequential living
She fled with my soul when life wasn’t looking
To stop me…
For now and for ever
Into dreams made of rhythm of moonlight and heather
To mesh me in breeze tossed in scent soaked in starshine
Misted with gossamer and dusted with firefly
To feed me on tunes made of tremble and sigh
As earth whispered her love to the sea - and the sky….