Poetry in Prose and Verse
The Books of Ger Agrey-Thatcher
Dreaming White Mountain
I no longer sense the edges
of this space. My mind
has wandered out the door again,
and I don’t feel
like chasing after it any more.
The walls are gone. The leaves
are swirling across the floor.
I wonder – from the kitchen – if that is me
out there among the great trees
lifting my face into the cool rain
where the mountain and I are one.
Let Prayer Be Fire
Let prayer be fire. O
raise us up – white hot – our star.
Guide us to our golden noon.
Let prayer be light. Let our bodies
glory In a new song,
an everlasting bright rebirth.
Let prayer be love.
(Let thy passion and they peace
wed vows within my heart.)
For only love can melt
stone, smite, smelt the steel
that surrounds us. O
fuse us into one light,
one undying sun, one
loving, praying fire.
as in Jericho
It is easy
to bring down the walls
No easier way
to conquer a country
than with joy
If you would rule a nation
at peace for a lifetime
keep the people singing
I was in this seven storey jungle
With its pearly golden beach,
A sea stretched to infinity.
Aquarius was at my feet.
Mistblue maidens danced around me
And tempted me with their tears,
Took me home and fed me breakfast
Of lotuswine and pears.
They made me count the years I saw there
But I couldn’t tell them apart,
And I said “I know it looks like time to you
But to me it looks like art.”
Then the youngest turned to me and said
“I believe that I’m your ride.”
So later on I rode with her,
But when I lost my pride,
I went home and I killed myself
But I couldn’t die inside.
So I went back and told her
I had diamonds in my mind
But then confessed my soul was glass.
With nothing there to find.
Then they came with oranges,
Incense, gold I cannot tell,
And the angel who is Horseman came,
Cast Snake and seductress into hell,
And all around me everywhere,
The emptiness increased, til everything
Was one again, and nothing
Threw stars upon the beach.
Behold this Lightning
If therefore they say unto you, Behold,
He is in the desert, go ye not out,
Behold, he is in the closets, believe it not.
For as the lightning cometh out of the east
And appeareth even into the west,
So shall the coming of the Son of Man be.
Matthew XXIV: 26-28
The Return of Freyja
The sweet and savage sports of spring
announce her coming. She casts her cloak
of gold and green across the resurrecting earth.
New life whirls wild around her
whispering Love's twentyfour secret names.
So she spires to her high north star
raising rainbows in the night.
This is the falcon-fire of Freyja's flight.
Mother and maiden of the miracles of May,
attend us, Our Lady of this green day.
'Tis time for lovers to laugh and leap.
Call all the pretty pagans out to play.
How to Find Faire Folk
The forest is the home of shadows that speak—
most often mad as the magic of a maiden’s first love—
shifting shapes from the deep
violet vapors that vanish in the dawn
and reappear at dusk with every new star.
Though they are as transparent as moonlight,
they are solid, crystal creatures, cool to the touch.
They are the angels of the green
world. If you would speak with them,
you must ask your child to teach you their fiery tongue.
Remember that they would rather play
than pray—as men do—yet everything for them
is hallowed. This is the majesty
that overflows the temples of the trees
with awe and grace, and Silvi’s singing.
If you invite them to first birthdays,
weddings and celebrations of love,
they will show themselves in all their finery.
they will make your days festive with opulent occasions
and grant you a happy heart more precious than praising.
Come now to the land of the maple and the birch
where wild strawberries and wood violets
are the forests and the lawns of the Faire folk.
Walk lightly on this glowing ground, and I will show you
the circles of their dances in the snow.
The Farmer’s Prodigal Wife
She has returned.
How I’ve missed her.
Yet I dared not
Run to her like a broken child
Lest she know
My wound at her going.
She will remember my tenderness
From my trembling hands.
Perhaps love will live another Spring.
Yes, she returns,
After almost half a year.
Every year she returns fresh, renewed
Wearing her coat of many colors.
And as we entwine,
Our roots wander in the warming darkness.
We wake drenched with dawn, drunk
With the dew of this resurrected day
And our hearts flower in one flame.
Preserve this seed entire
unto the end of time. Remember
the tree of song and poetry
that brought you forth from emptiness.
I am Silvi, forest soul. I sm
The voice that sang the worlds from light.
Hear now the toll of Ragnarok
untune the harmonies on high.
Askr and Emble, ash and elm,
first man, first woman, born from tree.
Tree thou art, not dust. The forest in thee is
the heavenly hall, the temple
of the shining body of the earth.
Galaxies flicker in the deep
of Odin’s old blind eye.
Ephemera seed eternities.
Come, let us make an amazing thing.
We will plant the trees of our birth
for every soul that has breath. We will rune
a new day, and put dread Ragnarok away.
Hold this tree gently within
until you hear old word and wyld.
I am Silvi, forest soul, magic child.
The end is an awakening.
For GOD So Loved the Wild
For God so loved the wild that he drove his prophets, saints and Son into the wilderness to transform mortals into gods. He cast His cloak of living Light upon their bodies and caused them to shine like suns before men. He bestowed upon them the great Gift, and Grace abounded to heal, prosper, cast out demons and raise the dead. His will is still done on earth as it is in Heaven.
Nor did God leave the beasts without the hope of a heavenly earth. His Covenant with all creatures is found in Hosea II: 16-23:
And in that day I will make a covenant with them,
With the beasts of the field,
And the fowl of heaven
And with the creeping things of the ground.
And I will break the bow,
And the sword, and the battle
Out of the earth, and I will
Make them to lie down safely.
And I will betroth them unto me forever, yea,
I will betroth thee unto me
In righteousness, and in judgment,
And in lovingkindness, and in mercies.
For God so loved the wild, that He hid in it a living soul that is sister to our own. We feel a fear and awe before the wild’s great solitude and majesties. Blake saw a universe of ‘creative fire and light’ in his forests. Thoreau cried out “Give me that wildness which civilization cannot endure!” and “ask the gods to pardon this clear flame.”
For God so loved the wild that he gave St. Francis and a nameless multitude the Gift of Kinship. And His Son appointed a little child to lead them all.
For when we learn to love our wild neighbors as ourselves, because we love ourselves as God loves us, the Last Covenant of the new creation will crown our hearts with Peace forevermore.
I am the watchtower of heaven.
I am the lightower of Magdala. I lead
lost fisherman and uncertain sailors
to my merciful Master. I anoint them,
preparing them for his greater Anointing.
I have seen my brother walk from the tomb,
and witnessed my Master come out of death a King.
His spirit fell upon me when he rose, and now
I heal the sick and cast out devils,
give light to the blind, and quicken.
I am the wonderful Wine at the Wedding.
I embrace the myrrh within my heart.
Only I have soothed the lust of angels.
I burn away all sin by the sweet fires of love,
and I praise his joy from my bitter sea of tears.
The Alchemy of Becoming
God must become man,
Man must become God;
Heaven must become one
Thing with the earth,
The earth must be turned to Heaven;
If you will make Heaven
Out of the earth, then give
The earth the Heaven’s food,
That the earth may obtain
The will of Heaven.
Thou must eat of God’s Bread
If thou wilt transmute
Thy body out of the earthly
Property into the heavenly.
The paradisical man is clear
As transparent glass, in whom
The Divine shines through and through
As gold that is thoroughly bright
And pure without any spot or foulness.
Set in verse from The Signature of All Things
by Jacob Boehme