While lying in a sadness deep
I was awoken from that sleep
by sweetest purrs and softest fur
She gently bade me rise and see
the magical mist that called to me

With all haste I made my way
out into the newborn day
And to my heavy eyes it seemed
that still I wandered in the veil of dreams
where trees whispered within their shrouds
as I walked along in forested clouds.

Am I lost in this foggy Fall?
Is there no one to hear my call?
So much is now past, I know it well
Now long gone, simple memories
in countless tears that fell and fell.
Still they fall, still they fall

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“Celtic people, at their very core, are a water people. Within the various expressions of Celtic culture and spirituality there are hill people, shore people, and island people, but in each expression there is a deep and abiding orientation to the holiness of water. Something of the spirit of water has gotten right down into our souls, into our bones. Water has shaped us….In contemplating my own ancestors, I have arrived at the conclusion that Celtic people are not only a people of the water but also, and even more so, we are the consummate children of the mist.” – Frank MacEowen, “The Mist-Filled Path: Celtic Wisdom for Exiles, Wanderers and Seekers” New World Library 2002

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© 2018 Meredith Everwhite (poem and featured image) All Rights Reserved