Happy Bealtine

Well Baal is with us once more and the Summer is upon us.

'Bealtine'



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