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POETRY
LIBRARY
The
Church Spiritual
This
page will be added to from time to time.
Introduction
The meaning of the word Bard or Bardic Craft is little understood.
The dictionary defines the term as a Celtic minstrel or poet.
There is an accurate description of this Craft outlined in an
archive document in the members library at www.dalriada.co.uk
the web site of The Dalriada Heritage Trust. The document used
to be in the public archive. The membership fee is nominal.The
article places The Bard in the broader context of Court and politics.
The Craft is not to be compared with any of the temporal crafts
or guilds.
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The
two complementary poems which follow entitled "Iona" and "The
Snowgoose" are intended to be read in the order presented. They
were handed to Norman Shanks, then leader of The Iona Community
in an envelope about six or seven years ago with the words "These
are two poems which are for you". No response was solicited none
was ever received.
Iona
Perjured
Isle, down through history's aisle thy story has been told.
But
now born again are thee with Snowgeese in thy fields.
They
feed upon the Celtic Cross which adorns thy bosom sweet.
They
cackle with a common Heart's delight neath the morning sun.
In
strength and Blessedness is now thy song borne o're the sea to
lands afar.
The
Heart of Light is beating strong - thy sons are gathered proud.
Their
purpose sure, their Path redeemed at Light's behest -
Is
now an open book upon the lectern placed.
Let
the Sea Eagle spread its wings and fly the whole world around
In
soundless flight the message pure to hearing hearts is whispered
-
EVER
SURE!!
Amen.
The
Snowgoose
Hold
fast to the Light as high you fly
Let
down your love upon the whole world this day
As
further - still - your heart doth rest.
This
heart, this noble heart that beats between my wings
What
majesty therein, what warmth, the tenderness of down.
Free
of Spirit, and of woe I only fly before the blast of fate.
None
such as I has ever flown this course before
Save
for one they call the Dove, a brother sweet to me.
Each
in our time are come to share our hearts with all humankind
So
high I fly , that few discern who I really am.
Less
noble in the heart some say, a feather in the nest perhaps?
'Tis
only the snow that blinds their I's
And
hides the horizon sweet twixt earth and heaven's Bliss.
So,
steadfastly in Light I soar
The
higher yet the closer still
To
the heart of humankind -
But
who IS the heart of humankind if not the Silence still?
So,
in circles do I fly with all embracing goal
Until
I hover, perfect; still - in Celestial Silence sweet
And
then, oh miracle of miracles -
Behold
- the Universe around the Heart doth turn
As
did at Beatrice's behest.
I
am the Snowgoose - still -- amid the storm
I
melt within the Heart of Light
And
thus the snowflakes pass right through
In
silent, endless night.
And
yet ----- the morrow comes apace!
Amen
Ruach
The
Wind blows stronger - still,
The
chaff before it - lies.
Amen.
The
Honey Bee
(A
Muse)
The
bee desires no sweetness or reward
From
the bloom upon which its heart alights,
Rather,
it seeks to meet the need of the hive -
Which
is its home sweet home,
Upon
Whom it depends for shelter from the storm.
Then
again, the hive depends -
Upon
the bee, the bloom, the Blessed Light!
Amen.
Of
House and Home
(A
Muse)
The
physical body is my house,
Spirit
is My Home.
Therefore,
let me Be at Home - -
Upon
the earth.
Amen.
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