Bealtaine

 Bealtine was first published in the Jane Raeburn Pagan Muse Anthology: since then it has been performed in Ireland, Scotland and the USA as a piece for two voices, as part of "ritual performances" or theatre. 

 "Bealtaine": from Rivers of Light

 The fires were extinguished at dusk; doused,

 dampened, across the belly of the land. 

 The last inspiration of twilight, fading with the dying rays of sun denying the existence of hope.

 The rushlights and candles standing in brown pots

 snuffed out with ruthless decision.

 Breathless and wanton 

She welcomes the dark finding perfect acceptance.

 A rapidness, daringness, derangement of wood on

 skinfulness, sinful the way they dance against the

 gathering night. 

 Cool breath of death against overheated limbs

 brushing against mountain ranges.

 Hidden the contours of valley and hill

 From the eyes of greed and envy

 And on they dance still, heavy with desire 

Pausing with expectations 

refusing extolments of false praise 

insisting on the truth of cruelty. 

 Til light streaks and nudity is warmed 

 By the rising sun, colour restored 

 In a land overlooked

 The mid-time, the time of forgetting 

The removal of knowledge

 The trampling of self. 

 Til light steaks and reawakens 

 In a land unobserved, the tumultuous waters

 Unaltered in course by the reappearance of light.

 And the union of dark and lucid 

Galvanizes the sleeping soul of rush bordered lake

 and pebbled beach 

 And the call of the curlew opens up 

 the soft turf and heather of the marshy straights,

 straddling the west slight lines of silver traverse the sleeping Eriu, the stretchmarks of rebirth. 

 The Fires are relit at dawn, reborn with tongues of merriment sending messages across the face of god

Rivers of silver this time, free-flowing, pushing the days out 

So that evening meets dawn. 

 © Geraldine Moorkens Byrne

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