On the day when
the weight deadens
on your shoulders
and you stumble,
may the clay dance
to balance you.
And when your eyes
freeze behind
the grey window
and the ghost of loss
gets in to you,
may a flock of colours,
indigo, red, green,
and azure blue
come to awaken in you
a meadow of delight.
When the canvas frays
in the currach of thought
and a stain of ocean
blackens beneath you,
may there come across the waters
a path of yellow moonlight
to bring you safely home.
May the nourishment of the earth be yours,
may the clarity of light be yours,
may the fluency of the ocean be yours,
may the protection of the ancestors be yours.
And so may a slow
wind work these words
of love around you,
an invisible cloak
to mind your life.
By John O’Donohue, who died suddenly just last year. He was age 54.
Hey it’s brooks. I was told that u have a blog and wanted to write. That poem above us extremely deep man.
The Blessing is so touching and very beautiful. Thanks.
And may a “path of yellow moonlight” bring you and Ry safely home.
Here’s a comment on summer in England from another Brooks: Brooks Williams is my guitar hero, and we subscribe to his online newsletter. He says that,
“It has been gloriously hot in England the last couple of weeks. The moon is waxing and rises late in the evening over the fields. Last night I watched it go from pale disc to glowing coal surrounded by a halo of light as I drove toward midnight. The air is rich with the musk of whatever is growing in the fields and it is heady stuff, an intoxicant, spinning dreams on the road ahead of me. And time moves wonderfully slow. A week or so ago, while waiting for my guitar to have a new pickup installed, my friend PJ and I sat outdoors at a pub killing time over pints and conversation. The birds began their evening song but it would be hours ’til dark, so I thought they should pace themselves. As the day stretched into evening, the black and leather clad (with metals bits everywhere) group at the next table struck up a conversation with us about dogs, life and rock and roll. Oh, and they also wanted to borrow a match. Back on the road, the traffic heaves to a halt on the motorway as everybody is going somewhere. On the longest day of the year I drove very near to Stonehenge and Avebury – on my way to a festival in Devises – and the place was packed with all sorts of cunning characters and sun seekers. The police had blocked off many of the roads due to the volume of people enjoying the sun’s extended appearance, but the road to Devises went the other way and soon I was alone again with the riffs, rhythms and songs in my head. Later that night, driving back to the house where I was staying, the northern sky still blushed with a kiss of pink, even at midnight. Summer is singing a myriad of songs to me, and there is new summer wine in my glass. And all I have to say is, Wow!
~See you down the road! ~Brooks”
Wow, what a great description! It was perfectly warm while we were there. Now, back in Barcelona, It’s burning. Today we head for thE sand and beach.
On Friday, July 3, 2009, wrote: >
Wasn’t that great? What a sweet thought. Whoever John O’Donohue was, I hope he had that invisible cloak of love wrapped around him when he left.
What a fantastic thought! Thanks jim. On Saturday, July 4, 2009, wrote: >
Do you have more information on this poet? What else did he write? How did he die?
Definitely keep this going on your world travels.
Hi Mitch:
Here’s some information on John O’Donohue plus another poem he wrote.
Apparently he went in the most peaceful way: his sleep.
http://godisnotelsewhere.blogspot.com/2008/01/john-odonohue.html
Cheers.