The Light that Shines

The Light that Shines

The emerald isle she calls me

there’s an aching in my heart

that plays on intuition

and begs me to depart.

Over land and over seas

old stories of my soul

remembering the tails

and youthful travel goals.

And the light that shines from her eyes

can heal the ravaged soul

that’s lost upon the Irish seas

and lost upon the moors.

We over-landers will come home

with essence to be free

take back the lands they stole

a place for you and me.

When Vikings came to conquer

assailed our peaceful shores

the ground that was our baile

rose up to greet their wars.

Battles lost and battles won

our warriors to the fore

freedom won at Clontarf

no servitude no more.

And the light that shines from her eyes

can heal the ravaged soul

that’s lost upon the Irish seas

and lost upon the moors.

We over-landers will come home

with essence to be free

take back the lands they stole

a place for you and me.

She claims my spark with whispers

Éire álainn her name

this lonely over-lander

my Irish heart she claims.

When glass of time had broken

assailed with Cromwell’s chains

we fought them all and survived

but deep scars etched remain.

And the light that shines from her eyes

can heal the ravaged soul

that’s lost upon the Irish seas

and lost upon the moors.

We over-landers will come home

with essence to be free

take back the lands they stole

a place for you and me.

Time sailed from grief to grief

led to our sovereignty

quickly turned into our blood

a sorrowful memory.

Days and nights of savaged past

have bloomed to modern day

Europe casts its chains again

our people in dismay.

And the light that shines from her eyes

can heal the ravaged soul

that’s lost upon the Irish seas

and lost upon the moors.

We over-landers will come home

with essence to be free

take back the lands they stole

a place for you and me.

Hey!

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About this Poem: As an Irish Canadian, I have a deep longing connection for my Irish roots. I feel the pain of the past and the pain of today and the home of my clan which I fear I’ll never see. But I am there in spirit.

“baile is Irish for “Home”

“Éire álainn” is Irish for “Ireland the beautiful”

Clontarf is in reference to “The Battle of Clontarf”. (See below)

The Battle of Clontarf (Irish: Cath Chluain Tarbh) took place on 23 April 1014 at Clontarf, near Dublin, on the east coast of Ireland. It pitted an army led by Brian Boru, High King of Ireland, against a Norse-Irish alliance comprising the forces of Sigtrygg Silkbeard, King of Dublin; Máel Mórda mac Murchada, King of Leinster; and a Viking army from abroad led by Sigurd of Orkney and Brodir of Mann. It lasted from sunrise to sunset, and ended in a rout of the Viking and Leinster armies.

It is estimated that between 7,000 and 10,000 men were killed in the battle, including most of the leaders. Although Brian's forces were victorious, Brian himself was killed, as were his son Murchad and his grandson Toirdelbach. Leinster king Máel Mórda and Viking leaders Sigurd and Brodir were also slain. After the battle, the power of the Vikings and the Kingdom of Dublin was largely broken.

The battle was an important event in Irish history and is recorded in both Irish and Norse chronicles. In Ireland, the battle came to be seen as an event that freed the Irish from foreign domination, and Brian was hailed as a national hero.

Silent Vigil

 

Silent Vigil

Let them laugh as they fall

in fires they have set,

with gaslit trying words

for I shall watch them burn.

A Dream of Life

 

A Dream of Life

A fever took me with a puzzling dream

as my mind did sink past the ebony stream

where consciousness meets at elusive door

to familiar places I had seen before.

With a gentle thrust, by empathic will,

the atmosphere sank and gave me a chill

as the visions emerged into the light

I found my streams in the endless night.

A path to a room with beings aglow

of people not met but people I know

from moments in time that all came to pass

including my days through the looking glass.

The beings were faceless but I knew them well

all glowing bright in their humanoid shell

they did not see me while standing there

as I listened to voices and basked in their flare.

I felt their presence, atmosphere was true

a backdrop of moments where memories accrue

and just as I reach, I’m plucked from the sea

back in the world of reality.

Dream begins fading to the fathoms below

headaches emerge as my fever still grows

I slowly get up as if in a trance

I’d been sick for days and this was my chance.

I found my way to the hospital that day

discovered, meningitis had its say

fever had reached to one hundred and five

if I’d stayed home that day, I’d not be alive.

I think back to the dream and what it meant

it gave me the strength even though I was spent

not to give up, there’s hope at the end

with lovers and dreamers and very close friends.

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About this Poem: In my early years I’d lived on my own age of 18 (1978) and was very independent but also lived life by burning the candle at both ends.

In January of 1984, I became very sick and stayed home. I had no energy and I slept a lot. Headaches soon developed and became severe, along with a fever that froze me to my bones. For several days I only had enough energy for about 30 to 40 minutes after which my energy dropped, the headaches became severe and the fever sent me under the blankets.

On the 5th day of the illness, I fell into a deep sleep and experienced the dream described in the poem. When I awoke, I got dressed, grabbed my last three dollars and took a cab to the hospital. The hospital staff admitted me immediately after taking my temperature (105F) They quickly packed me down with ice and moved me to the ICU where they told me that I stayed for a week. I slept most of that time and did not wake except when they came for blood samples. They fed me through an IV and soon after moved me to the isolation ward in my own room.

After a number of blood tests, two spinal taps and other tests they told me I had meningitis, hepatitis and mononucleosis which is why I went into the isolation ward. I was told that, if I had stayed home that day, instead of coming to the hospital, I would not be alive.

My life changed after that, and as I look back to that dream I had in January 1984, I have since met the beings I recognized in that dream. I also have a very strong immune system. 😉

Riders of the Storm

Riders of the Storm

Wolf riders in the light

return to us and fight

preserve the visions born

upon the wailing storm.

Ride the cosmic trails

where silver conscience sails

with glowing torus calls

through tethered waterfalls.

Into this world take form

come through the wailing storm

reclaim your shadows rhyme

and whisper in our time.

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Image generated by Stewart Brennan at Night Cafe

About this Poem: A poem I wrote after the death of a fellow poet and activist. The song "Riders on the Storm" came to mind while writing and thinking of him. 

Rest in peace Wolfspirit. May you ride upon the storms and come back in many conscious thoughts to those who loved you. 

Warriors will meet again.