Dirty Little Secrets

what numbness lies there in thee,
once loved most by all the Daoine Sidhe?
have ye forgotten how to love?
have ye forgotten how to hate?
must i remind all of ye of me?
be it a blessing or a curse,
Love Is,
without it, it’s much worse.

ebb tide comes to the sea,
old age brings aching bones,
yet for our youth we may grieve,
as others do, when we’re gone.

i am an Old Woman of the Sídhe,
i once wore silken saffron gowns,
today the Poets live in poverty,
and the world is ruled by clowns.

my right eye has been taken from me
in the service of this nation,
i am an Old Woman of the Sídhe,
i envy no man of high station,

you powerful men, you love money,
but you hate the People who labor,
yet in the time of the Sídhe
it was the People that we favored.

may Winter of Age descend upon you,
like the decay of an ancient tree,
may you be haunted by all that you do,
in the name of the Land of the Free.

the day will come when the tide will return
the oil and spilled blood beyond the sea,
then you and yours will pay as you earned,
as it was in the time of the Sídhe.

here at the world’s northern shore
the winter winds blow,
rivers are frozen,
trees covered in snow,
and the sounds of an old woman’s moan,

the Cailleach on horseback goes riding
through the stars, and the dust
of ten thousand ages,
calling her husband,
calling through the realms, calling him home,

here among the fields of snow,
her pony of white,
hooves beating like drums,
in dusky moonlight
after the wild geese have flown,

telling men where the deer were grazing,
the Cailleach Bheara sings
the Song of Songs;
the old grandmother who ate the apples . . .
such a long time ago.

*Cailleach (pronounced “kahl-yuhkh”)

think of loving and being loved,
achingly sweet longing,
ecstatic joy, the long-remembered kiss,
a broken-hearted black soul — silent weeping,

gently touching you,
aware of the silken warmth
beneath my fingertips,
watching you as you journey — dreaming,

the way is uncertain…
scenes fading in and out
behind your closed eyes,
you don’t know the depths — of my longing,

you might be seeking me
in some other life where we loved,
hidden in secret places within,
i whisper my confessions to you — sleeping,

knowing my words won’t be heard,
my lips close to your ear,
“Think of Love.”

IF you wish to enter within
seeking enlightenment,
realize your ignorance,
open your heart to truth,
your desperate thirst
goes beyond speculation,
forget thought and words,
go with the flow,
realize you are that flow,
far off in the wild
a vastness opens up,
galaxies of worlds
rolling into timelessness,
a river of stars, flowing
in the dark distance,
streams flow into pools,
clouds drift over, reflecting
clarity, subtle like moonlight
in perfect stillness, shining,
clearing a path to follow,
you know the way by heart.

for we that love are sad
so little peace we had
soon our dreams fade away
so imagined are they
we do not even feel
that they were truly real

such thought have I this night
that I should hold mine tight
kept in mind’s pondering
while love goes wandering
down paths of give and take
for mine or others’ sake

yet we should laugh and weep
our hopes and dreams are sweet
although of late estranged
and seeming somehow changed
by all our lonely years
for, love, we shed these tears