Disappearing pathways

Raunacht Collection: Day 4

Paths meander between realities
Today I walk along
Amongst the trees

Woodpecker greeting me with her staccato efforts
Tomorrow you are not there
You that path branching off at this tree


Tomorrow I will pass the tree and you won’t be waiting
Just to re-appear another time


And so I walk in between the here and now
Along the tree lined ribbon
Guided by the drum of a beak

Ink and watercolour sketch of a yellow path lined by trees and grasses, the draft of the above poem is written on the yellow path. 
The format is horizontal and the bottom right corner which is free has a rough sketch of Babd one of the iterations of the Morrigan

A Sansa Walk

Raunacht Collection: Day 03

Knee deep snow beyond the paths
Mountain pine branches bent by white weight
Stillness of a windless day
Monks’ chanting
In the Buddhist temple at the apogee
The only noise besides the crunch of snow underfoot

The chants an eerie iterance
In a silent world
Carrying us up the mountain
Breath visible in frozen air
I am in this world and other world
Walking the liminal space
Floating in a white suspense

Prayers as metronome
On a snow-muted day
I am here, and now
And always and everywhere
In this moment

Grandma’s Duty

Raunacht Collection: Day 02

Your rough-hewn hands
Move over my anxious skin.
Head, neck, shoulders, arms, hands.
Head, neck, shoulders, arms, hands.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Again.
A little twirl,
more emphasise as you move over my hands,
and out and away.
I ought to sleep.
Alas I can’t.
My skin burns from carrying the day:
smells, sounds, colours have seeped into my epidermis,
setting the organ alight.
My stomach churns with thoughts and questions.
My brain spin tales and stories.
It won’t stop.
So you begin to sing.
Let the sound carry all away.
Let the sound quiet the stories
soothe the stomach.
All the while your hands move in their duty
of gathering an anxious child back into her body.

Christmas Eve

Rauchnacht Collection Day 01

Joyful chimes
Dance through the winter’s eve.
We are wrapped tightly,
In thick scarves and coats like down blankets.
Woolie socked feet, in big boots,
Crunch their way along the dark road,
Carefully determined,
Towards the sound of the bells.

Waiting are candle light, warm hugs from friends, carols to be sung, and nativity play.
Our noses numb with cold,
Mother, sister, me.

Stars decorating the dome above
Like the candles on our tree.
Snow is sparkling tinsel along the wayside.
We celebrate the light born.
Sun rising again and the days growing.
Stories blending into rituals,
Ancient tales in new dress.

The path, a road now,
Once carried mammoths,
And neolithic tribes.
And still we strive to the building on top of the highest elevation.
Coaxed by the sound of the bells,
To celebrate light reborn.
As we have done and will continue to do,
As long as the sun rises the next morning.

Christmas Wish

Dreams of frozen time
A pause in noise
Snow silence
Winter light
Crunch beneath my feet
A robin’s breath
Frozen in song
My Christmas wish

Santa and the Troll

I am stomping through snow
Shouting ‘Ho Ho Ho Ho’
While in my thick mittens
I hold two fluff kittens

Where they came from? Don’t know!
Appeared like will-o’-the-wisps in the snow.
I think they are fae cat or wild cat or something entirely else,
But they are cuddly fluff kittens and my heart simply melts.
And they look at me eyes big, mischievous and scared;
So I am taking them home crackling fire in hearth.
Then I warm up some milk and dip in some bread;
And after, I tug them all cosy in bed.

Before the sun-up I hear a loud crack,
And some rumble, and tumble and maybe a smack.
And I jump out of bed worried sick for the kittens.
They were so small they fit both in my mittens.
Suddenly, though I hear a loud roar,
And a smash and a bang and a rattling door.

I rush out to see what is happening now.
Two humongous fluff kittens make an intruder cow.
My nerves are not sure what is taking more toll,
The humongous fluff kittens or the intruder troll!
Oh my jolly good golly what am I to do?
I don’t have a phone to call and ask you.

So, I do what I do when I am well scared.
I shout out loud to make sure I am heard.

“Ho Ho Ho Ho who was a bad troll
And broke my door making this huge hole?”
The kittens where hissing and fitting with wrath,
Almost as if I would have them take a big bath.

The troll was embarrassed and sillily coy.
He said he didn’t mean to destroy;
Just knock at the door and politely ask
For some hot water for his thermos flask.

But the kittens where hissing and growing in scale.
They did not believe the clumsy troll tale.
I am still scared of the troll and their size is appealing;
Even, if by now, they’re about to hit my ceiling.
‘Thou shall not lie!’ one of the kittens scorned.
‘I have seen you approach being fully armed.’

‘Ach this club’, the troll says his helmet askew.
‘It’s just my work tool, it’s what trolls do.
I live down the road under the bridge,
And if someone wants to cross I jump out of the ditch,
And holler: who goes and thou shall not cross
Or in the icy cold water I’ll toss!’

‘So you live off, of scaring poor folk on the bridge?’
‘But come to our home for water? That’s rich!’
The other fluff kitten was not well impressed,
Still suspecting the troll had planned a mean theft.

‘What am I to do?’ the troll pleads his woes.
‘This is really just how the troll story goes.
And the ditch is ice cold; the water freezing indeed.
I had hoped a nice tea would provide me some heat.’

‘Ho Ho Ho Ho’ I interrupt still very scared.
But also heating water on the warm cosy hearth.
‘Let’s all take a breath or two or three
And have a talk and some nice hot chamomile tea.’

My fluff cuddly kittens are not yet consoled,
But they shrink a bit down; their sizes controlled.
The troll takes off helmet and leaves club at the wall,
And sits at the table all grubby and tall.

The fluff cuddly kittens are eying him up:
‘You really ought to change how you do earn your grub.’
They chide him again and just for good measure.
Trying to ramp up what is called the peer pressure.

The troll hangs his head salty tears begin rolling.
‘What am I to do? All I know is do trolling!’

‘Hm.’ Kitten one says drumming her nails.
‘Uh hum.’ Kitten two says twitching his tails.

Yes he has two tails I had failed to notice.
Yesterday night I had other things for focus.
‘So what are you good with?’ I try to ask kindly.

‘Shouting, and clubbing.’ The troll says resignedly.
And with a big sigh more tears begin rolling.
‘I am so so so tiredly tired of trolling.’

‘Shouting could be a good thing.’ one kitten ventures
‘The king always needs heralds for his adventures!’
Kitten two interjects full of excitement
‘You could walk ahead shouting: hear hear the king and his compagnment!’

‘I love the sound of adventure!’ the troll sounds optimistic.
‘But you need to learn not to be meanly simplistic.’
‘I am no simpleton.’ the troll says upset.
‘It’s just, you know, the only story I have in my head!’

‘So we will help you to learn many more tales;
Of happiness, luck, sadness and fails.’
I interject quickly and fairly loud
the kitten induced troll chewing out.

Fluff cuddly kitten one hisses proudly,
And fluff cuddly kitten two joins her loudly.
Then they look at each other very deep in the eye,
And turn to the troll nodding saying: ‘All right.’
‘We are cathsidh the fae kitten kind
And stories are plenty on our mind!
We will teach you kindness and pride;
Even how to be kind to your own grubby grub hide.’

Then they turn to me looking somewhat abash.
‘We are sorry Santa, we should have asked.’
‘May we stay with you in your warm cosy abode?
And help you teach this silly dear oaf?’
‘Ho Ho Ho Ho’ I laugh in my beard
‘That’s a fun story, going to be heard.’

Picture Book Version Below

New Year’s Snow

Smell the cold
Ionised air
Exhale the year
Inhale lucidity

Clarity by nature
A thousand rainbows
Painted with frozen chaos

Cold burns my cheeks
Mitten hidden fingers

In their cozy cradle
I puff out release
Letting go of what serves no longer

Snowdrops

How do they stay clean?

Born out of muddy soil
Breaking through half rotten leaves
Thrown away during autumn clearance
Half-composted reminders of summer past

Pelted by sleet, and hail, and rain
Trampled on by foxes and deer
Yes, both, in our garden
And yet

And yet
Snow white
Brilliant
Clean
Vibrant green
Not a speck of mud

Harbingers of spring
You say?

Harbingers of hope
I respond.

The power of life
Born out of cold and darkness
Brilliant white
The colour to hold them all
Symbol of light
Symbol of peace
Symbol of hope

A very fragile message


Iss: a rune of becoming

This is a mixed media art piece, the bear I found online but despite undertaking reverse image search could not find the actual artist who drew the bear 😦

Echoes of the past
Vibrate in the snow
Little clouds of icy dust
Unsettled by sound
Iss: rune of rest and pause
Life happens underneath the ice
Underneath the blanket of snow it stirs
not yet ready to wake
not yet ready to move
not yet ready to grow

February

Pale grey slush
Generously dispensed from above
February
The mornings lighten

By the way
Who thought that first R made sense?

Ice-cold faces
Attacked by even icier, colder needles
Thrown full force
Against numb skin

By the way
Wasn’t there spring in the air?
Just yesterday?

Super-moon hung hidden
Behind thick clouds
This morning
Árvakr and Alsviðr were too slow

By the way
Have you read the Edda yet?

What are the stories
That keep you going
During the dark times
In the midst of winter?