From the Book of Kells
The woman of tears, that cries from distant darkness
Is your lonely companion – and yet she bears no loneliness.
You dug deeply into the bog of souls
Into the misty eyes of subtle whispers
Crowds of whispers – linked together – shape your path –
Like pebbles thrown into the water.
Wide circles trembling over the skin of time
Delicacy – white skin of singing echoes.
Silence thrust into sound – rings of glowing distress –
Hidden amid the stony route – a single sign –
Cobweb-like trace of hidden gods – now only energies.
Dappled green – dappled brown – intertwined in a cloak
Strips of grey hair set loose to reach the wind.
The ancient mothers knew.
They wore their sorrow like a golden lace
Around their throats and spoke so silently
To the ones who had set on the journey
Reaching for distant shores – across the sea of tears
Beyond reach – beyond space – beyond delusion.
They chose you to give voice to, – you to disclose
Once again secret rites – that they be kept
– trapped into the chalice –
A secret token to the dormant ones.
(C) 2006 by Francesca Diano RIPRODUZIONE RISERVATA