Miss Not A Word

I close my eyes
And lean against
The strength of the old Oak tree
He whispers in
My searching ear
Of a time that came and went

Will I remember?
If I so choose…
Of what He tells me now?
My heartbeat quickens
My eyes close tight
Shhh…this I must not lose.

I hear Him again
This time stronger
Of the Earth in all Her glory
I envision a dance
A fire and feast
Of the season that could stay no longer

We cherished our earthly Queen
Honored Her sovereign King
Lived life in a never-ending spiral
“Harm none” hung in the air
Death was not an end
And sacred was Every living thing.

Where have they gone?
I feel Him say
Where are all my people?
I see no dance
I feel no fire
Or words of a gentle way.

I pause a moment
And faintly feel
A sigh from this grand old Oak
I reach inside
And find the words
And whisper back the Pagan zeal.

I am here
And I shall dance
A dance for all the seasons
I’ll light the fire
Feast on passion
And I will Not forget the reasons

I will honor my Lady
I will honor my Lord
I will dance the spiral dance
I will “harm none”
And fear not death
Please..give me this one last chance.

I sink to sit
At the base of this tree
Feeling lost and hopeless at best
Until I feel a soft rumble
About my feet
Where new life springs from it’s rest

Oaklings burst through
The once cold hard ground
That I thought would never recapture
The feeling of old
When the Earth was Queen
In her own glory and beautiful rapture.

So stand next to the Oak
Miss not a word
Pagans stand strong and proud
Our path must be cleared
Of the doubt and dismay
Modern day has weaved into a shroud.


Oakling
October 1, 2001