MOTHER SPEAKS

Midnight's hands shall raise the Veil,

as ritual chants the New Year hail;

I shall bide with you, daughter, through Samhain night,

by the red-gold fire's bewitching light.

I shall partake of festive feasts and wine,

my beloved's hand shall rest once more by mine,

as we renew olden bonds with kindred souls,

rejoice, though unseasonable Death be our dole.

I shall ramble with you upon November's first day

across meads where Autumn's last leaves play 

beneath skies enwrapped in frost-kissed dreams, 

by streams reflecting timeless themes. 

My spirit shall rove over seeded fields,

as the fading day to twilight yields,

for there as a bairn I laughed and cried,

as maid, wife and mother much golden grain scythed.

The Goddess grant I hear bygone strains

of Harvest's gay melodies and mirthful refrains.

I would retrace my steps in the circle dance,

beneath night's silver, hiemal trance.

Time's wave shall sign the Veil's descent,

as I give thanks for the joyful day spent

amid kinfolk's love, prayer and sacred trust,

I shall return each Samhain, child, as I must.

© 2015 Lily's Verse

Lilium Candidum

Image: LA LECTURE (edited)

Source: www.artrenewal.org 

Artist: Leon-Augustin L'hermitte