deepundergroundpoetry.com

The Druid's Lament

based on Christian hymns  

As life became a starry tomb,  
pinpoints of light above,  
how holy was the virgin's womb,  
the journeys of the dove?  

Does myth collapse like old fetters  
before the fact of death?  
When Charlemagne came with letters  
and swords to tame the Celtic breath.
 
When "Christianise" meant something grand,  
when blood was soon forgot.  
Do Druids have souls, God's right hand  
encompassing or not?  
 
From Joseph's staff there came a tree,  
on pagan mud a church  
was built in worship and in glee:  
the old religion stripped like birch.  
 
The stone circles are honoured now,  
preserved and toured where once  
they may have seemed a lowly sow:  
a sacrificial dunce.  
 
What avenues to holiness  
were lost in holy purge?  
The answer waits in endlessness,  
where souls greet and converge.
The_Silly_Sibyl
Written by The_Silly_Sibyl
Published | Edited 27th Sep 2018
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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