LUGHNASA  fire festival 


We kill the bull, thrashing and struggling 
Flint saws through sinew, legs buckle
Up comes the ground in an unseemly rush.
Blade meets spine, all time stops.
And his blood soaks the earth
Splashing our feet, in rich red mud.

Look from the mountain’s plateau 
Home is laid out until fading from sight
But from here the festival fire flames
Can be seen to the end of our world. 

Though still in summer browns
Winter’s icy finger tips, reach invisible 
As we gather in, lay down and store.

And our counting stones tell of 
Short cold days, long dark nights.
A frost crusted world, forever frozen 
Forgotten all these long hot months.
 
So now we gather in, drink blood and feast
But in the quiet corners, a few tears
Are shed.

©️ david/dai fry. 11th September 2019.