A Day in the Isle of Skye

Scotland

Lashes and lashes of rain
Are pelting the windscreen
Windshield wipers trying their best to catch up
We are on a mission
Dinosaurs were here
On Skye 166 million years ago

Seen
Not by humans

But their footprints
Rediscovered 
20 years ago
By two humans and their dog
Some sort of mutated hairy dinosaur descendant

We stand there
On slippery ground
Soggy feet
Soggy hats
The waterproofed rest withstands the elements

So we stand
Whilst water gently drips off us
Into the 166 million year old footprints
And our minds cannot phantom
That chunk of time
That time line
We can see this point in history right in front of us
Feel the imprint of the toes underneath our fingers
What we cannot see
Is the distance between here and then 

We continue on a cliff-walk
An overly excited father 
Beak full of worms
Tries to distract us from a nest
On the ground
Another dinosaur descendant 
A tiny could-be-dragon
Without fire but feathery wings

Is this where dragon stories come from?
Our–non dinosaur–ancestors finding bones
And skulls with prehistoric sharp edged teeth
Or is it because the hills look like sleeping dragons
Mist gently rising from overgrown nostrils

We walk along the cliff-edge
Basalt columns grumble underneath
They remember the dinosaurs
They have seen it all
Violent heat, emerging, cooling, changing, eroding
They watched
Watched on
And still remember a time when the animals
Whose fins we see emerging from our viewpoint
Looked quite differently indeed
Somehow the dolphins remind me of dinosaurs
Animals in-between
Sharp teeth, hunting, but for strange reasons
Like to play with humans
We watch them jump out of the waves
A waterfall is thundering next to us
Contributing to the decay of the basalt
With destructive powerful beauty

Somewhen in that chunk of time
Between here and then
Humans emerged
And as humans emerged other consciousness found an audience
Bound to place and nature
Essences of entities awakened changed from their slumber
Because humans live through stories
Humans want words that make-things-so 
Words that pack meaning into tiny parcels
Which they string into necklaces of being

So the beings awakened into a consciousness 
That limited them to the words and stories of humans
They knew they were more than that
The humans felt they were more than that
And so humans created rituals to grasp what their stories could not
And they left the places of these ancient beings marked 
To remember that there are stories that cannot be told
But humans like the basalt have changed
Keen edges softened
Ancient stories retold shifted and morphed 
Becoming echoes of their own memories
And with the stories the ancient beings too faded back into the landscape

However

Some rituals remained because they hold more than the stories could
So the fairy glen holds an infinity circle
A fairy hill has trees with colorful ribbons and gifts
Fires are lid on the longest night and the longest day
And when the sun dies and is reborn
The stories have changed
Yet
Yet
Yet our rituals hold fast
As we throw a coin in a well
And bind a bright ribbon on a tree
They know
And somewhere deep down we do, too
We hear the echo of stories never told

Lockdown Dreams

Heat is rising all around me
Remembrance of this morning’s chill
Only in the wayward breeze

Humid air is saturated
With the aura of wild flowers
Spiked with omnipresent elders

Marsh Valerian bravely stretch
Their pastel heads
Above the sea of green

Metallic-blue damselflies
Perform their phytodance
The choreography remains a mystery

My steps are slowing down
Clothes clinging to my body
As if I just emerged from the sea

I sigh-revelling in my daydream
Of cristal clear water
So cold I can only swim for minutes

Today would have been a day
To spend by the sea

Maybe Depression

Maybe depression
If you sleep twelve hours
And still are tired
And can’t wait for the evening to arrive
Although you just got up
Yet another day to get through

Yet another day

That’s not you
You are happy go lucky
You are relaxed
Undemanding
Thrifty
Funny
Warm
Smart and
Smartass
Caring
Cheeky
Passionate
Grateful
Always
Learning
Moving
Reinventing
Embracing life
Joy
The little moments

Yet another day is looming
You can’t bear to face
Another day
Where institutional abuse
Is perpetuated
By government bodies
By family court
Another day
The voice of a father is silenced

The louder that silence becomes
The louder is your pain

And I am scared
So scared
That maybe
That one day
Is a day
You won’t be able to face

Roots

So my friends today nature gave me this image of two fallen trees. One without roots who died and one with roots who, although wonky, still strives.

Two fallen trees
Two fallen trees

Know thy roots
Know them well
If the storm of life throws you back into yourself
You have somewhere to go
Somewhere to hold onto
An anchor through space and time
Ancestral
If the direct line is pain
Go further back
Keep going until you meet the light
Somewhere along the roots there is light always
If you don’t know your roots
If life has displaced you from them
Listen
Listen carefully
They are there within
Maybe you were given new roots

Either way

Find them
So the storm won’t break you

Of Being

Just being
Fluid time
Fluid space

The days bleed into one another
Full to the brim
As ever

Owl hoots seep through open windows
A happy little churn
My stomach

Be present
In time
In space

Everything is tuned into one song
The rhythm of life
A metronome

The sun warm on my skin
Wind in my hair
My breath

Be grateful
For time
For space

To be continued ... what do you think so far? 

Beltane

I can hear the blackbird call
Charcoal feathered bantam weight
And the cherry blossoms fall
Porcelain transparency

Spring air through a window pane
Broken by the passing time
In an attic on a farm
Echoes granny’s lullaby

Past and future meeting now
In this song carrying on
The blackbird is a different one
Melody unchanged

Memories of lilac scent
Purple iris added on
Suspended I am now–was then
Walking through the time beyond

Each note is a step I take
Each breeze is a breath
An image every memory makes
Until none is left

I am on my way back home
As the wind will blow
Gone the years and bleached the bones
What’s left is a wandering soul

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