Poem for Beltane Night

 

This Beltane is marked by storms, especially

of the inner kind: loss, bereavement, trauma, 

challenge, one after another. In the quiet of night

I go out, to find a large moon high behind trees –

and next to her Jupiter, clear, close as a lover.

This night I have no lover of my own 

to help me celebrate. Even those cats are gone

who used to come with me at midnight

into the circle of my patch of earth, my garden 

and my sacred trees, to greet the moon.

Yet I feel the whole earth pulsing with love

in this time of alive silence: a throb beyond

our ears to hear, yet not beyond our feeling.

The street, empty of people, is full 

of presences co-existing, just out of sight.

They come in peace. I greet them so.

Somewhere else, there is fighting,

there is fear, there is death, there is horror.

Tomorrow, I may have to face them,

those conditions, but tonight –

I’ll gaze at my own face in the mirror, 

speak to myself the words of blessing, 

bringing in love for me, love for my friends, 

love for the Goddess and the God, 

love for all creation, love of Life. 

Beautiful world, I will not forget you,

even when the work gets hard and the nights 

grow cold. The love I summon is for you, 

your regeneration; the love I call into being 

is for all of us. The love I am is that which I seek. 

I stand in love. My heart embraces the Universe 

as my hand blows a kiss to the moon.

Inside, I pour a nip of ginger wine.

I write a poem for Beltane. (Poetry as fertility.)

Pieces of dark chocolate melt in my mouth.

Revision (expansion) of earlier version.

Poem for Beltane Night

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Poem for Beltane Night

This Beltane is marked by storms.

Much later, all quieted, I go out

to find the full moon high behind trees –

blue moon this month – and next to her,

clear, close as a lover, Mars.

This night I have no lover of my own 

to help me celebrate. Even the cats are all gone

who used to come with me at midnight

into the circle of my patch of earth, my garden 

and my sacred trees, to greet the moon.

Yet the whole earth pulses with love

in this time of alive silence: a throb beyond

our ears to hear, yet not beyond our feeling.

The street, empty of people, is full 

of presences co-existing, just out of sight.

They come in peace. I greet them so.

Somewhere else, there is fighting,

there is pain, there is death, there is grief.

Tomorrow I may have to face them,

those conditions, but tonight –

I stand in love. My heart embraces the Universe 

as my hand blows a kiss to the moon.

Inside, I pour a nip of ginger wine.

I write a poem for Beltane. (Poetry as fertility.)

Pieces of dark chocolate melt in my mouth.

 

Photo © Roxanne Robins 2020, used with permission (for this use only).

See also revised (expanded) version.

 

Sharing with Writers' Pantry #44 at Poets and Storytellers United.

Solitary

Solitary

Tomorrow will be Beltane night. 

This time I’ll arrange to be out

when little Aussie trick-or-treaters

trailed by their mums and dads 

pour onto the streets,

colourful costumes bizarre

in the strong daylight

of a warm Spring evening.

They don’t know

it isn’t really Halloween here.

They think that’s a calendar date

not a season. And they never heard

of old, cold Samhain, when the dead

may return as the veil grows thin....

(Who turned it into Halloween?

Oh yes, of course – churches.)

On Beltane night, tomorrow,

I’ll get back after dark

when the baby ghosts and monsters

are safely home in bed. 

I’ll bathe. I’ll cast a circle.

There will be water, salt,

candles, a special crystal,

and rose oil, the perfume of love.

Bodily lovers being past or dead,

I’ll gaze at my own 

face in the mirror 

and speak to myself the words

of a ritual blessing, bringing in

love for me, then love for my friends,

love for the Goddess and the God, 

love for all creation, love of Life.

Beautiful world, I will not forget you,

even when the work gets hard

and the nights grow cold. 

Spinning the Wheel of the Year

alone at my tiny altar, the love I summon 

is for you, your regeneration; 

the love I call into being is for all of us.

The love I am is that which I seek. 

Candle image by Maliz Ong. Released into Public Domain, License CCOC0


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