The Power in Her Hearth
I kept my eyes tightly shut
For as long as I could.
I was so afraid to open them wide;
I was afraid that too much beauty
would flood in, and crack my heart
breaking it into pieces;
because you see-
never in my life before
had I known such beauty existed.
That wasn’t the ordinary kind of beauty,
the sort of beauty that would use my eyes
as a most convenient door,
to make its way in.
That Beauty was radiance of fire
reflected by water,
sparkling brighter then any diamond
would ever spark.
And it made me wonder:
How do I know it?
How do I dare to describe it
without even looking at it?
Because you see,
I kept my eyes tightly shut
For as long as I could,
Fear-ridden.
Twinned hearts make great bridges:
The vastness of waters vanished,
And so did the lapse in time.
A lock of hair blown away by the wind in Kildare,
the same wind that made
the oaks around Her hearth sing,
and Her flame dance.
My heart thus found its place into the land
where once Her hearth stood-
Yes, it was my heart for which the hair lock
had been a place holder only,
as She, the File and the Bandochtuir
instructed Anam Cara to do.
Without me knowing nor wanting
(nor daring to want shall I say)
In the middle of the night,
the light erupted,
and Beauty of the most special kind
made itself visible to my soul,
where it could be seen and felt
in its unadulterated splendor-
although my eyes were still shut tightly,
because I’m stubborn, you see…
She went ahead and forged my whole being
into the best of forms
(whatever “best” meant for me at the time)
and my form then swooshed like the fiery, swift arrow
just launched from Her bow.
Arrow was I, crafted and branded by Her.
Marked with Her mark so I won’t forget,
So I won’t ever dare to shut my eyes again,
So I shall never escape or let escape
Beauty and Power, the File and the Bandochtuir
in my own life,
Ever again.
Image: "With Closed Eyes" circa 1895 - 1905 by Odilon Redon. Public domain.
