Day 45: Haikus #3

Daffodil wonders

Why doesn’t anyone take

My photo in death?

Dandelion shuts

And awaits the transition

Into a timepiece

I wonder what will

Happen to us when we leave?

Apple blooms anyway

There is a meadow

Where lady’s smock grows peaceful

Where I walk and smile

Wild magic takes toll

On spirit and body and

I need to ground, Earth

Day 44: Masked

My turn to go to the supermarket

all ailments suddenly inflated

what if my cough is The cough?

I mask up

 

 

 

 

In the supermarket

on goes the mask and a man

asks if they work?

I reminded him about wearing trousers when he

pisses himself and I won’t get wet

He actually smiled

 

 

 

 

The checkout lady

gave me the most heartfelt

thank you

I’ve had for a very long time

 

 

 

The cough hasn’t been

since

 

 

 

 

A Zoom call

again- when will they end?

My arse is getting wide-

and in front of a group of wise women

I appear

 

 

 

 

This time there is no mask

not one.

Vulnerable and kind

generous and wise

we learn

and we are seen

really seen

 

 

 

 

Look at each other- really 

look

I say

Perhaps it’s easier to really look

when there are two screen and

hundreds of miles between the eyes

 

To be seen, masked up and

mask gone-

how the vulnerability

sings through my bones

 

 

 

 

Day 43: Elementals everywhere

I ran again yesterday

along the old tracks and railway line

I watched my feet go like metronomes

pound pound pound

breathe in

pound pound

out

 

 

 

 

I saw a doctor friend who said

I am no hero

but you’re amazing

I thought

as she ran home to her children

and I ran on

just to waste some time

 

 

 

 

 

A leveret

about two months old

flushed from the hedgerow

by my crazed and delerious pup

she ran

straight for me

and I watched in amazement

and wondered

when is she going to notice?

 

 

 

Right by me,

so close that in slow motion

I could have picked her up

she clocked

and swerved

chased by Pup and me yelling

to a deaf-eared maniac

 

 

 

 

Mother Hare watched the whole sorry chase

as Baby leapt into a hedge and escaped

Pup came back and passed

straight to where Mother

sauntered through into her field

and she waited

Pup gave up,

found some sheep shit to gnaw

 

 

 

 

I stood and watched:

Mother had three more babies

serene

safe

they came out from under a little shack

lolloping

smelling the air

chased leveret trusted to come back

in her own time

I suppose

 

 

 

Then two rabbits appeared

tiny

delicate

and my inner kid

wanted one to hold and stroke

not this noisy

boistrous

wild creature-chasing

idiot dog

who eats sheep crap

and then comes up for a kiss

 

 

 

 

The horror of it

 

 

 

 

I ran on and found

where the apple fairies live

through a wrought iron gate

(iron will keep them in,

the Victorians thought that

but now we know that those who

wealded the iron

wanted dominion over

those whose protection was bronze and stone

and rose and hawthorn)

an orchard be-walled

and secret

I climbed the wall and

wrenched my shoulder

 

 

 

sorry, I won’t try to look in again

I apologised to them

as you should when they play a trick

to teach you a lesson

the pain left

and I breathed a sigh of gratitude

remembering to ask permission

always

but especially at Beltane

when the veil is thin

but the Elementals

are everywhere

 

 

 

 

 

Doctor

Hare

fairy

Apple

feet

breath

shoulder

crazed dog

I need no more proof

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Day 42: Ebb

Post Magic:

I am emptied like a discarded shell

no longer do I hold and mystery of growing

in my safe embrace,

that which I held has up and gone

fledged

 

 

 

This is how it is

once the flow of magic leaves me

afterward

I am the empty reed,

the pith pulled out of it,

hollow and empty:

 

 

“I am a spirit,

a word,

a thing of air and darkness,

and I can no more help what I am doing than a reed can help the wind of God blowing through it.”

 

 

-Italiacs from Merlin of the Crystal Cave, by Mary Stewart

 

Day 41: Beltane

Storm clouds hung

Grey and towering and so so welcome

I half hoped for a deluge

Right in the middle of the ritual

The time for ritual came and on we got

The World Wide Web of internet zooming witches and wise women!

Hail and welcome!

Put your brooms in the virtual corner

Prop them by the door and

Settle into the moment of transition

This is the magic time

And no, I do not say that simply

Time to shed what was once

What had brought us right to the gate

Spring set the scene

For the ultimate flowering

The heat and sweat and hot ankles and soaked dripping cleavage

The grubby hands that pull up food

Herbs and medicine

For the healing of the world

Straw hat and freckled wrinkles

Overhead the apples will swell

And the plums will drop

Like men’s balls on twigs

Dangling right in our faces

For us to pick and suck and

be careful of the stone on delicate teeth,

For not all juicy things are altogether beneficent

Now, though let’s not get ahead of outselves

This is still just the doorway

Not passed through quite yet

We are still with one foot

On either side

I still hold Spring so dear and tender in my heart

For this lockdown has taught me true love

Reverence and devotion

To the burgeoning days I have been a part of

I am not ready to fall head first into Summer

Please, can I not rest a little while before that massive power

Is all around me?

Time is precious and it is flying

Faster and faster

It zooms

Like we wisewomen

Now on our electronic brooms

Connected through the ether

When all is confusion

Be held in the truth of Earth

And Sun

And their eternal dance of love

The deepest magic I want to learn is:

How can I slow down Time?

Day 40: The great in-breath

And so

The great in-breath happens

But I do not know

How long I can keep inhaling

Before my lungs burst

With excitement

Spring is nearly at her culmination

When the Sun God’s advances make way for

Reckless fecundity

And the Earth Goddess cannot

Repel His advances

But welcomes in the love

I swept the stone circle

Then watched with pleasure

Cherry blossom fall

Onto the smooth brown soil

We had a little rain

In the night

The green grass

So parched of moisture

Instantly glows neon

Verdant and fresh

And the smell!

Rhizomes and lichens and worms and

Frantic photosynthesis

I never knew my garden

Took rain and turned it into

Scent

Day 39: Quarry ghosts

There is an old quarry down the way

we walk to it most days

it is now filled to the brim with wild garlic

ash and beech

and ghosts

 

 

 

 

 

It is older than our house

I asked the kids if they could imagine

what it would have been like

an eight and eleven year old

shovelling rock

being shouted at

sweat and blood

fear

 

 

 

 

 

Ghosts

the rock face is bare

all around us is overburden

discarded Earth

not wanted and worthless

piles and piles of orphaned planet

 

 

 

 

 

One child stood and sucked her thumb

the other said

Can you feel the memories?

I can feel the people

and also the trees. It’s not so

bad here, mum

They must have known that

the trees and the wild garlic would grow one day?

 

 

 

 

 

I wonder:

did they know?

Did the backache and the tears and the

sweat and pain

pass like wisps of wind

through branches yet to grow

across the faces of the children

so that my house could be built?

 

 

 

 

 

Our gratitude

spans lifetimes;

Their descendents we probably know

Day 38: Yoni

An old friend video-called me yesterday

we spoke about rawness and poverty

how can a woman bleed safely

when she has no money for comfort between her legs?

 

 

 

We spoke about our yonis

those magical doorways into pleasure

and out into beinghood

and we women all have one

so what can be more equal than that?

 

 

 

What if I could not bleed in safety?

Or in peace?

What if I had shame, fear, resentment, horror

mixed up with

all the rest of what it means to bleed?

 

 

 

 

 

Later, a call came about

ovulating

the raging energy

the power of the moment

turned inwards

and outwards

 

 

 

 

Why is this still on our minds?

Haven’t we evolved to know?

 

 

 

 

A yoni,

so small and so seemingly under control

is a raging,

sensuous,

delighting,

destructive,

creative,

explosive deity

and I have one between my legs

 

Day 37: the open road

For a month now

My computer has autocorrected

Everything I write

Into french

 

 

 

 

 

 

I never made it across the border but it has

Mysteriously

How an inanimate object

Turned French

When it was meant to be me

Perhaps I’ll never know

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I can feel escape calling

 

 

 

 

 

 

This home

So solid and secure

So reliable and loving

I will never forget

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yesterday I went into the van

To find something, I think

I stooped in her low-roofed belly,

A sob caught in my throat

And I said

One day we will hit the road together

Gertie

Us five

Out there

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lockdown is ending

Soon

Keep the faith

 

 

 

 

 

I was really saying that to myself

 

 

 

 

Day 36: An old friend or two

Oh no!

Quick!

Write something before you sleep

And fulfil your ridiculous task

You are no Hercules

But one busy

Fraught

Mummy figure

Who fears that the day goes by

And there was nothing to write about

I played farms with the toddler today

Building fences and stocking fields

With pigs and sheep and calves

Made of plastic

I finished the third book since lockdown

And made new friends on Facebook

I made pancakes

Yesterday I made bread with yeast

Three years’ out of date

Not even the chickens would eat it

I have chosen an old teenage favourite to read

I am tired of books that tell me what to do

I need an old friend sometimes

So I have chosen Merlin

Arthur

Ambrosius

Uther

To see if by the umpteenth reading they chose a different path