Perpective

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

Four Corners

Brigid’s Ritual, Part 6

Dried herbs hang from rafters
In the small kitchen,
Ariel and I sip coffee before dawn,
Already the brightening sky turns
Black night to purple through the windows,
I smile as my good news spills out:
The spell broke, I tell her, a solid crack--
Twelve citizens in my world
Decided thirty four times
The monster is guilty,
The simple truth frees us to hope again for lives unburdened
By the illusion of invincible malice
Control through fear and threats
Power over weaker minds
--all taking a hit--
Ariel takes my hand as I follow her outside
Past our bench facing sunrise
And we fly as crows to the bon fire
At the center,
I land on my feet as the man
Tossing wood on the flames shifts
To a bear and envelopes me
In warmth and fur, my heart rests easy
In this refuge
Of friends and dwellings--
All four corners magical
--not mundane,
In the distance rolling thunder beckons
A refreshing spring rain.

Laurel Owen, June 2024