Poems

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY '99

Author: Rose ( u2desertrose@excite.com )

Prometheus ran from the castle of the Lord
He had stolen
The fire, the spark, the spirit, the flame
For his mansion to light.

Past the abyss to the world below
He made his way
Angels chasing behind
But as he looked back for a moment he tripped...

And the torch from his hand fell
Into the abyss below
Like a star it fell
Sputtering & flickering, rolling & tumbling

The angels stopped and watched as it dropped through the darkness
Mighty Gabriel, Raphael too
In silence they stood transfixed
The iron bonds loose in their hands
As the beacon fell; spiralled down, down, down
To the lands below

To an island green and fair
On the edge of the world
It fell

A maiden in a dell south of Tara there sat
Hair colored gold
Lips were cherry red
Legs were crossed as by a stream she span
Spinning a small, child's sweater
With a smile upon her face

The Danu ran to the presence of the Lord
"Prometheus, the flame he dropped
To the earth it fell
A woman with child
In its way she sat
What is to be done?"
The Lord turned his eyes upon her and a hand He raised
"Wait," said He. "Wait and see."

Just after Beltaine
When the harvest sang
A child was born there in Erin
To the woman with the golden hair
A child with sapphire eyes
Skin ivory, radiant with the glow of life
Hair like burnished copper
And a heart beating inside

The angels ran to tell the Lord
But He on high heard the cry
Prometheus from his cell
The angels from their posts
The Danu from her bower
The Morrigan from her lair
All heard the child cry

The mother, her joy boundless,
Held her new son tight
In the falling twilight of her room
As night fell, she lay her beautiful child in the crib and kissed his sweet forehead
And smiled

Persephone then descended and took the child
As she slept
To the presence of the Lord
Unafraid, the baby laughed
As the Lord took him from the arms of Spring
To see the baby so beautiful, He smiled

"Inside him burns the flame
Deep inside this blessed child's soul
Inside him beats a heart
A heart with enough space for every person
In every time in every place

"Music is in his veins
Poetry in his being
But most of a all a Voice
A voice that is Erin herself
A voice that can soften the hardest heart
Reach the deafest ear
A voice that will bring hope and peace
To all those in grief

"Inside this child of Erin fair
Lie restlessness and doubts
But there is Faith to show him the way out
Faith that can move mountains
Faith that can part seas
The Spirit with a white flame burns inside there to remain
I will not remove it as I first intended
But let it there to burn for those below to gain by its light
Through this my instrument
This my Voice
This my Messenger."

As He finished speaking
There the Lord touched with His finger the chin of the babe
And imparted the gift of Courage and a wealth of Strength
For the road would be long
And the road would be hard
And critics
There would be many
And tears
And pain
And loss
And sorrow
And fear
So He gave him strength for the journey ahead
But also this child would need Patience
Patience the more necessary to wait
To wait until the day he could see his Lord again

Persephone took him.
The cry that came from so small a burden rent her heart
A tear came to the eye of the Lord but he waved her away
"Return him to his mother" was all He would say

The court there gathered wept to see one so fair banished
"Why?" cried Danu, "Why send him away? He is more us than them.
It will be difficult,
Nigh unto impossible for them to understand what is of here.
Why cause him pain?"

The Lord raised His hand
"Down below he is needed. The light that will shine out, for those of them that can, to see.
But it will not be long now
It will not be long before we have him with us again
For all eternity
But until then, that is where he will remain."

Persephone hurried through the window with the crying child
She placed him in the crib as the mother began to awaken
The child pulled her hair as she turned away
Out of anger?
Out of grief?
Out of childish revenge?

The mother was waking
Spring ran away
Leaving behind her
Three strands of raven hair
In his small hand

The mother rose
She held her dear one close
And sand him a lullaby

Above, the court of heaven heard the Voice of Ireland
The Voice of Love
Silenced as into the fatigued slumber
The child fell.

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