footprints

(and in the meantime – imagine a photograph of bird footprints…I’m working on it)

I feel thoughts circling
words waiting to be touched
the birds waiting to land
who have always been with me
just out of sight
only approaching from the side
when I’m looking ahead
or looking back
or when I’m still
eyes closed, mind open, listening
then they come

black birds of the imagination
bones bleached white in memory
feathers full of dreams
songs and claws and tails and wings

they strut and hop across the page
leaving spiky footprints, unbound symbols
runes of divine connection

or gently, they lower one wing
to deceive, or to start over
brushing the page clean

sometimes, they are so sure of their song
they stab with their beak
straight through, and pin it to the page

all I can ever do
is trace a line from the edge of one footprint to the next
and trust in the story
they want told

©clairegriffin2017

dreams of – heritage and challenge and change

Thinking about dreams…

IMG_6568

What does it mean when you meet someone in a dream, you learn their name, their job, develop friendship. They are interested in who you are, they look at your writing.

They asked me a question I can’t remember fully – but I know it was a challenge of sorts – “so if you have this Scottish heritage why are you still writing …?” I can’t remember the rest of their question, but I know I countered with “…and the Irish”. We were looking at handwritten text and in the dream I could read it – but have no idea now what was written.

We sit looking at the dark sky filled with multiple crescent moons and stars and I say, “on nights like this I can’t imagine there being anywhere better – but maybe its time to leave…” and we agree to move away.

It really is like living another life…

Thoughts:

  • heritage
  • challenge
  • change

 

 

this imaginal space – draft pt.xii

a month ago
three emissaries from the green-world
visited in the trees outside my house

a trio of plump white-chested kereru
a confirmation, affirmation
why else come for one day, and never again
except to tell me, there is a story to be told

I know why they came
I know who they represent

we find what we look for
synchronicity occurs when we pay attention

my prayer is observation and question
imagination is my promise and reply

 

©clairegriffin2017

this imaginal space – draft pt.x

the green man reaches up
to touch your snow-feathered shoulder
and you hold him in your pale hands
and take him into the dark places
binding him in a lunar eclipse
as you honour the enchanted union
with the son of the land

queen and daughter, wife and sister
you have many names

Artemis, Marama, Cerridwen, Hekate, Rhiannon, Arianhod

they are our gifts to you, whispered into the wind
our way of calling you family

but in the dark
he does not need to know your name
all he needs is the scent of your hair
the sound of your voice
the touch of your hand
and the ring of silver

 

©clairegriffin2017

this imaginal space – draft pt.ix

you carry our creation and evolution
as a ring on each pale hand
and with every flick of your fingers
you rearrange the past

as you dance
every flip of your skirt shakes the trees
every clap of your hands thunders the skies
your smile is lightning

as you dance
your hands spin the clouds
your hips shake the mountains
and make our seas rise and fall
your feet stamp the heartbeat of our land

 

©clairegriffin2017