imbolc
Posted on February 2, 2019
Imbolc ˈɪmbɒlk/ noun

i asked the bear,
do you know what imbolc
is?
he stared at me with glassy eyes.

i told him. it is
today.

i asked the bear,

do you know what imbolc

is?

he stared at me with glassy eyes.



i told him. it is

today.



sbm.

Poor mad Bran sat at the edge of the well
scratching  and pulling at the stones
through days of cold and rain
summers blaze
whispering to himself words of no import
no-one understands this poor mad man
sat with his hound that never leaves his side
the people feeding and warming him when they could
a big man with no mind they said
but he had a smile for the children
and could cure a lame horse with a touch
then scratches at the stone and talk  again
at mid summer's eve he stopped talking and listened

On Midsummer's day he was gone
at lughnasadh he was found at the well
freshly healed wounds on him and the brave hound
and a girl-child with no voice to speak
but she could smile and sing of the sea
they took the girl to the great hall
but she came to sit each day at Bran's side
listening and singing to him in the evening
waiting for them to come for her

They came  at Imbolc
biting frost days wise women sensed them
creeping slow stained fields defiled by their foulness
the child is what they want
and some would quail and give her up
the women blessed her
set her upon on her horse
asked  for it to run it's small heart out

doors crashed, splintered wood
swords and spears flash and jab
evil tries to take her back
but she is gone and evil  must follow
hindered by men and their strength
women and their hearts and knives

Bran digs in the stones where he scratches
shouts to his hound "Guide Her back to the sea.."
drags the sword out from the rocks
where he has guarded it all these long years
then waits for evil to come
Iron-clad heavy, black steel and hate
ten spared the chase to bring terror and death
"You will all die..." their eyes flash
Yes, but not here, not today,  Bran's smile back..

Gone now leaving scarecrow corpses
nothing evil daring to come past
the wreck of bodies  he scattered
armour scales flew like ****** rain as he bites through
to their blackened hearts
then runs to the sea to meet fate and the coming change
he catches them at the strands edge
cold spume driven by the east wind
soaking the wounded dog and the horse collapsed
foam flecked, stricken, and the child who won't leave them

Thundering their hate an onslaught of rage
horses of the sea rise up and drag so many down
but a few keep on, the strongest ones
Bran sees them, He knows there is no hell
but these would take her somewhere worse
so he will stand alone and face their curse
He whispers quietly again to what flies above him
all these patient years they guarded and watched
he was the first to bring the cross to this wild land
but waited till now to show his hand

Swords and strength blood and wounds battling on
until even he is struck down,
Angel guardians silent watch his doom.
Broken spear driven through his chest
but still striving to live and save

The Great Dark One moves in to take the child
sneers, plots to soil and twist her to his will
the last one Bran could just not ****
but She looks up with gentle tears
"What would you have me do"? Asked this
child of the Elder Gods..
" Take me to your realm,
so I may be the darkest of all powers."
"No" says Bran,"With one final embrace,
I take you with me to heaven, with Christ's grace.."
Hugging him tight, Bran's death-spear kills two,
one forgiving one forgiven, as the weapon drives through

And the waves drifts slowly in washing the hurt from
child and beasts,  She drifts in the tide ,
horse now beside her playing in new form
guardian of the child of the sea,
who this Man of God She  Mourns
But the dog, strong again returns
to sit by the well and remember his master,
the coming of Mad Bran and the dawn
of the  Old God's passing.

The sun will rise again
The gnarled branches will bloom
The forest will yawn
And sleepy sighs will follow
The frost will melt
And the soil will give birth
To a new world
Dawn is coming
The creatures sing with her arrival
Gone will be the ice
That separated us from her warmth
Shadows will dissipate
And the wild will grow anew
Our bodies will thrive
My body is her garden
Soothed by her presence
Awakened by her opening eyes
I am a part of her
One with the earth and the creatures roaming
This is our rebirth
Our celebration
Together we welcome the morning
We feast through the glorious day
And by fire light we pray for the harvest
Welcome, mother
We have been waiting

i asked the bear,

do you know what imbolc

is?

he stared at me with glassy eyes.



i told him. it is

today.



sbm.



.

A trenchant thought cut through the rest
to jolt me out of this haze (I savour), and
as the noxious redolence of Aetherius left
the fog of Endorphus settled in its stead;
While the mists of the oraculate cast
their insidious shadows upon
my bare chest.

Lughnasadh, Samhain, Imbolc and Beltane shall come to pass!
By harvest, hallows-even, spring and summer will it matter?
Pharmahuasca maelstrom drank the earth.

We
You
I
It is all a reflection.
The pond ripples
and we feel the Earth
tremble.
Our body changes
and frequencies are radiated
But the tree stands tall
and strong
unchanged by the waves of the world
constantly staring at Himself
through the looking glass of the water.
He is eternal,
unchanging
However,
when the reflection does something
extraordinary
His heart swells
and the feeling goes
D
     O
        W
            N
through His roots
reaching into the pond
and releasing his love
into the world
and into each reflection...

*This is where Spring was born

Meet me among the numbing fields
where the cream narcissus grows.

Where my desperate human voice sings
against the flow of the autumn winds.

Do you hear the pillars of my empathy crumbling?

The wicked Imbolc has passed,
leaving me naked and sick in the light
of longer days.

Yellow-trumpeted blooms of each joss flower
are caught swaying to the emptying sounds
of my apathy.

Where I have been patiently waiting for
the flowering blood of hyacinth.

A reminder -

It is still winter,
We are still in the thick of it,
Chains and snowshoes
are still requisite,
Imbolc and Candlemas
are still to pass,
Groundhogs hibernate,
Tarns still as glass,
The tumbling finch song
has yet to be sung,
and even the false spring,
has not yet sprung.

So lie still a while longer,
Let the chill freeze you through,
Warmer days will return
in their own time,
And so will you.