“…We swear these things
to the Folk and Kindreds,
by all we hold sacred.
And if we break these oaths,
may the Sky fall down and crush us,
may the Earth open up and swallow us,
and may the Sea rise up and drown us.”*
Breaking of boundaries releases mighty energies, sometimes empowering, other times deadly. Such phenomena can be very difficult to predict, though they are woven into our lives, our fates.
I look with dread
to the time
my old friend
will breathe no more,
and to the time
my wife leaves me
or I leave her, going
to lands unknown.
Waking dream: transmuted into woodchuck burrowing beneath earth, a salmon thrashing its way upstream to spawn and die, a great blue heron flapping from bank, up through sky, down to river. One may be heart of heron yet hear the ocean roar.
All the passages, silent or deafening, soothing or painful…
Safe warm dark existence brutally shoved out into cool air, blinding light, to be carried to warm arms, breasts, cooing.
Child flees from his body to a green boulder hidden by evergreens, blueberry shrubs, with sounds of panicked breathing disguised by rapid flowing brook…
Child grown, seeks congress with spirits beyond the eldritch Veil…
The Veil a thin membranous skin between the quick and dead…
The boundary of our skin so basic we pay it no heed as it protects us from the harsh realities breaking around us as waves to shore…in between is sacred…
We are all walking
liminalities
suspended between
existence, non-existence.
The skin boundary differentially permeable, allowing oxygen in, excreting salty water, host to countless bacteria symbiotic, benign, pathologic. Nerve endings exquisitely inform us of what we touch, hot, cold, slippery, rough, wet, dry, and so on; we owe to these things our survival.
My friend who soon will breathe no more believes his essence will dissolve, disperse to the larger universe. He may be right.
Seventy years old (not young, please, these wrinkles are hard won) can barely recall childhood other than depths of horror, heights of joy. Bones become brittle, five bones broken in two falls in two years, plus more since.
Libido waning, to regret, relief; pills to stay alive and “sane”, gadgets to help hearing, back brace for physical labor. Paradoxically fit, travels miles and miles on foot, heart rate 55 at rest.
So many lessons learned, unlearned,
once thought I knew so very much.
Knowledge can freeze, discovery burn,
so glad I learned my lover’s touch,
sustains me through such dark despair,
flies me to unknown heights,
leaves me gasping for sweet air,
guides me to new insights.
Such as: love and life is transition; we constantly travel through liminal spaces, not recognizing magic we live in, so dance to rhythm of your pulse, weaving in, out with others, sharing sharing sharing sharing grateful celebration, waking walking leaping liminalities, exciting engulfing skin to skin!
At the last, fire will scorch, char, consume, leaving
naught but ashes in this world; of other worlds who can tell.
If I exist and am allowed, I’ll reach out to my loved ones
through the Veil.
If we keep our sacred oaths,
may the sky lift up and welcome us,
earth nurture and sustain us,
sea transport us to islands of forever young.
~ Wry Welwood,
December 2022
*Opening words are drawn from a welcoming ritual of a Grove in ADF (“our Druidry”). The ancient Celts held most important the realms of Sky, Earth and Sea, whereas the Four Elements of Earth, Air, Fire and Water were revered in many other cultures.
“…islands of forever young” is a reference to the ancient Irish’ idea of Heaven, Tir na Og, where all are in their prime and never age.
Written in response to prompts by J.D. Harms and Melissa Coffey of the publication Scrittura on Medium.
This piece previously published on Medium.