This is by Annie Finch, via the Poetry Foundation.

Samhain
In the season leaves should love,
since it gives them leave to move
through the wind, towards the ground
they were watching while they hung,
legend says there is a seam
stitching darkness like a name.
Now when dying grasses veil
earth from the sky in one last pale
wave, as autumn dies to bring
winter back, and then the spring,
we who die ourselves can peel
back another kind of veil
that hangs among us like thick smoke.
Tonight at last I feel it shake.
I feel the nights stretching away
thousands long behind the days
till they reach the darkness where
all of me is ancestor.
I move my hand and feel a touch
move with me, and when I brush
my own mind across another,
I am with my mother's mother.
Sure as footsteps in my waiting
self, I find her, and she brings
arms that carry answers for me,
intimate, a waiting bounty.
"Carry me." She leaves this trail
through a shudder of the veil,
and leaves, like amber where she stays,
a gift for her perpetual gaze.
Image from RTE
I love it! Thanks and happy halloween!!!
ReplyDeleteThanks Emmanuelle - you too!
DeleteWow. That poem. The rhythm, repeated words, imagery. Excellent. Thank you for sharing it, Jane! Love the picture, too. I miss the days when kids were actually creepy instead of Disney princesses and cute and furry reptiles!
ReplyDeleteYou're welcome!
DeleteBeautiful, beautiful words. I felt this today at the cemetery (for Alle Heiligen) - the whole village comes to stand by their ancestors and deceased family members and pray, and even though I'm not a part of the ceremony (I'm not catholic, and didn't grow up with these traditions) it was a chance for me to think about loss and life and death and my family half a world away. There's something sacred or magical about this time of year that begets that feeling and this poem captures that. I'm glad I kept this tab open to read this poem today - I think it spoke to me a lot more than it would have if I'd read it yesterday. Thank you!
ReplyDeleteThanks Sera - this made me happy. Sometimes, timing with what you read makes such a difference!
DeleteI love this poem.
ReplyDeleteSo glad!
DeleteI love these lines:
ReplyDeleteI move my hand and feel a touch
move with me, and when I brush
my own mind across another,
I am with my mother's mother.
There's such a lulling rhythm to this poem.
There is - glad you like it!
Delete