aug 91
In the landscape core secrets breed rituals-
Gods waiting for concepts grow in the undergrowth,
Soothered on river sources.
Hill burning bushes volcano with stone fortunes;
Each channel is a magic sea, tides waiting for a parting rod.
The tablets stand in power ranks, Dolmen, Dictum, Credo stones,
Engraving grey dark-sided rules for the dark-side elder’s grey approval.
No need for east or middle east to name the dictats of our lives-
They’re pouring down our crying hills, they’re in the faces in our graves
And, buried in the invaders’ graves, the painted skeletons lilt an endless jig.
Honor O Brolchain