By Nancy Haskett
Modesto Branch
At Brú na Bóinne,
Neolithic people walked on ancient roads
through sacred Irish land
toward prehistoric passage graves
and ceremonial temples like Newgrange,
where grass grows atop a rounded mound,
over white quartz walls layered with earth and stone,
carved circles, spirals, chevrons, arcs;
created by a people older than the Pyramids and Stonehenge
who feared the loss of light in autumn’s abbreviated days,
this holy place keeps a secret all year long
until dawn of Winter Solstice
when the rising sun peeks in through a roofbox
aligned to capture the rays,
sends them to the inner chamber,
flooding the floor with light —
an annual miracle providing reassurance that the days,
once again,
will begin to lengthen
I love to connect to the ancients though I rarely do in poetry.
Thanks for doing that in a beautifully themed poem.
We have this in common with the ancients–still uneasy with autumn darkness, still welcoming the winter solstice.
Beautifully described.
Claire Massey
NLAPW Poetry Editor
lovely!
Beautiful imagery and description of an enchanted place.
VERY WELL CONSTRUCTED
LIKE IT A LOT.
THANKS FOR SHARING.
A lovely poem to read as I enjoy the late afternoon sun. As January draws to a close the longer days are so welcome.
Superbly imagined, understood and voiced!
Yes, we have been there and the entrance of light one time a year thru that opening is amazing! Thank you for sharing as a poem.
Spiritual clandestine & mystical