Every now and then – almost unsuspectingly – a poem will emerge swift and nearly full-fledged. When this happens it always reminds me of No Face from “Spirited Away”. I feel that as I emerge from a place of intensity, often a place that’s not so good for me, the poem spews forth like tarry gall – I get the thing out feeling cleansed and returned to self.
Or perhaps the poem emerges like some kind of ectoplasmic gauze with my words already jotted on it. My poetry is always filtered through and/or dedicated to the Morrígan as the medieval literature abounds with (Her) prophecy and sorcery in verse. (A rabbit hole I’ll explore on this blog as time goes on.)
In any case, yesterday I was playing the dulcimer and mulling over a few things and upon striking the last lines of a tune, the poem started coming out. In my distraction, I hit the strings of the last chord in such a manner that a resonant overtone or harmonic sounded loud and clear – like a bell.
Luckily I was already at my desk. Dulcimer placed carefully to one side, pen and paper already in hand.
Here is what I coughed up:
* The quotation at the beginning is taken from the opening line of Ursula K. LeGuin’s The Left Hand of Darkness.
** It should also be noted that there is a version of “Hares on the Mountain” that makes an appearance in this poem. It’s Roud Folk Song Index No. 329 (here’s a link). I don’t know if anyone else finds that certain songs (be they old or new) have a way of following you around in life but this is one such song for me. Specifically, for this poem, you can find renditions of it by Josienne Clarke & Ben Walker or by Shirley Collins.
*** There is only one half-truth in this poem. 🎃
I’d love to hear any thoughts people have on how their gnosis occurs… and does it take time to understand certain parts of it? Is it instantaneous or cumulative? Or both?
Sincerely,
Sorsha.