Upon each tree hung with light,
cosmic fruits of love sway
beneath psyche’s soulful stars.
Over hill and silent shining lake,
a midnight journey of wonder
lights up this imaginal world.
Where stone, wood and water
naturally release reveries
to trees, who push their roots
down into swaddled dreamers,
offering the glow of intuition
and transformational symbols.
And a voice spoke to me,
“the alphabet will be your lodestar”
and I woke from the dream enraged!
Why do his letters get to be so important?
Why can’t I paint or play music,
why can’t I sculpt clay or knit?
Why do those 26 letters
have to be my guiding star?
“Well,” said the soul,
“you can either come to them
squealing like a noisy pig,
or you can come to them with grace.”
It was in her ancestry,
the longing to tend and herd.
Being the daughter of a shepherd
she knew why Arcadia pulled her.
Knowing her family began there,
she longed to return to her spirit land,
to deep harmony and highlands,
a vision of unspoiled wilderness.
To restore a branch of her family tree
and move in peace upon its mountains.
Home may be where the heart is,
yet hiraeth was calling her soul home.
Here on the long nights of the year,
in the darkest hours of mid-winter,
I call upon those wise, loving ones,
those radiant, bright elevated souls
whose names are beyond my reach.
Those who are well in spirit, come
and shine your healing light of love
all the way down my ancestral line.
Far past the ruinous family shadow
of madness, violence and addiction,
towards my true ancestral blessings
of creativity, healing and devotion.