Passing through portals                                     

I am met by six legged creatures

and my father’s voice whispers

on the wind,

‘No wonder you’ve always loved mystery.’

 

Ancient ancestors

from the Heaney clan

call my name

as their voices chant

through wind, rain, river and air.

‘Welcome home,

to the land of wild edges and limestone,

oak and hazelwood,

Guinness and song.’          

 

Pulsing life

though gone from this earth

seeps into my bones

as I stand upon ancient stone,

hovering over graves,

holding lives and stories old.   

 

Myth, wonder and grace

fill my senses

dancing and stirring my imaginings.

The Irish tongue sings on the wind

transporting me to another time

where the veil between here and there

feels as thin as gauze

billowing in the breeze.      

 

With eyes shut my body

breathes in family stories

and I am carried away to another time.   

Saints surround me,  I am

reminded of the great cloud of witnesses

who though unseen are felt.

 

Cliff edges, thresholds and portal spaces

beckon me,

weaving their magic and mystery.        

I am a pilgrim, drawn to the edges,

soul listening.