Between
second post, a poem.
As you will discover over time much of my work is rooted in the natural world and our relationship with it. How it echoes our deep inner spaces and becomes a mirror with which to see ourselves in. The poem below is inspired by walking in the forests of Germany near the Elbe in the north. At the time of writing this poem we lived in a huge old barn right the edge of the largest stretch of woodland in Germany. Here hares are more prolific, or at least more bold than rabbits, and I was lucky enough to get very very close to one before she leapt away leaving this poem in her wake.
Northern European folk traditions record a strong belief in witches taking the form of the hare. This poem is also inspired by the wonderful collection of poetry by Jane Burn called Fleet, she is an incredible uk based poet her work is of a magnitude I could only ever hope to echo.
Between was first published in Channel Magazine in Ireland. A wonderful rich publication well worth seeking out.
I hope you enjoy the read and please consider subscribing or donating. All welcome!
(Image is a hare pendant I made using brass and sterling silver. I must make another soon!)
Between
I find hare´s moult beneath the holly.
Where other trees bare their death angles quietly,
holly shuns with wide awake thorns.
Hare leaves parts of herself everywhere she goes,
winter’s soft white blanket, she births herself
spring, summer, then witch.
She already burns, a shocking heat tucked away,
redness in the pit of her like a bite.
Fur is ruins smoking.
Her paws are cold star-fire.
At dawn, she learns to box without gloves.
Cleft-lipped-witch shafts herself leaping broom,
in the slick of morning sheds her old body,
licks it off herself, tongue clogged with all the demands made of it.
I know the woman that walks out of the wood in the evening.
She is the woman the little wren inflates with song for.
The fox leaves his gifts on the path for her and
acorns split to show her their red inner-meat.
Her lips are still velvet.
Again the countryside/animals. My favourite haunts, that lead me in themselves onto poets new - when I've barely got time to catch up. We see hare frequently, moreso than rabbit just now. The fox leaves a mess in the garden and the hedgehog drinks at the pond. Where was I - oh and the mysiticism or folklore and open spaces. I just got back from Ellan Vannin and am pleased with the response I got at a poetry meeting at the Archibald Knox pub. And that the Manx spirit (Manannan) has touched my pen too. I must go and do what I came on here to do:)