Brigid’s Ritual, Part 12

For simple, beautiful contentment
I find the spirit world --
A warm mug of coffee
Before dawn, the promise of sunrise
Imminent --sounds of leaves rustling
In the wind, carrying the smell of fall,
Companionable silence with Ariel
As a small fire crackles between us
Under a rock overhang --the tops of hardwoods
And conifers barely visible
From our perch on the mountain
As we await first light --
Now my words tumble intuitively,
Not fixed by grammar, but fluid --
I speak of hope on the brink
Of history made by a choice 
Facing my countrymen and women --
If the shallow nihilism of fanatics prevail
The entire world could spin 
At a reckless tilt --off kilter --
Governed by lies, cruelty, a tyranny of stupid --
Yet here, in the soft glow of fire light,
My beloved guide beside me,
Non-linear time allows perspective --
A gathering of strength and wisdom --
And as daybreak arrives, with it a rush of longing
And trust in kindness,
A vision for a better life for all --
I am fully committed in this moment.

Laurel Owen, October 2024