by Alison Jones
is the night of all souls, and the veil is thin
A gateway time to entrance and welcome in
All the departed from lifes long stream
Who breathe the mystery of the otherworldly dream.
now in threads of light,
Step into the glow of winter twilight,
Your ancestral arms about us throng
To heed the winters darkening song.
time of rest from the busy all
Of a year that fades beneath a pall
Of memories mouthed from an earthy deep
Our patterns of heritage here to reap.
now of grandmothers fierce and strong
Tribal huntresses of wisdom whose words belong
To the ages past and a time long ago
As memories sleep beneath a blanket of snow.
in the dark the crescent shines
Her lantern gleaming through the blackened tree
And starry fire mouths the heavens glide
As spirits dance forth the whole world wide.
graveyards yawn in the mornings breath
Reaching with the yew into the mouth of death
To bring forth those that have gone before
Who step through now at the liminal door.
us honour them, who before us go,
Breathe their memories forth and show
Love and respect for though they have died
Their faithful spirits this night reside,
us and those who they cared for most
Although they are perceived as weary ghosts
Of shadows or shades of what they once were
For on this night the boundaries blur.
more, with them we stand and eye
The turning wheel of the year that must die
And spiral with the cycle to waken mirth
Turning our thoughts to the time of rebirth.
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Night © Alison Jones 2005