Jehanah’s Ashes

I.

Into the pot of flame

we burn the cord of life

when it ends

it begins from the earth again

we let go of her being

free her from our neediness

II.

It is May

we dance around the pole

of many color ribbons

over and under each other

weaving as we go

to the music of the songstress

and the tapping of drums

the burning sage

the oil of lavender

roses on the altar

her photos, the old Druidess

with each turn

her long hair flying

each turn

her gray eyes smiling

each turn

she bends her knees

each turn

she dances with bears

III.

Her ashes, fine like white sand

slip through my fingers

onto the ancient stones

they fall, covering blades of grass

and the occasional peek of pink

they spread in the breeze

swirl around me

I feel the sting in my eyes

they land on my black coat and boots

a spray of pixie dust clinging

Tom’s face is streaked with her ashes

little specks on his bushy beard

she fills the grove

we kiss the air

salt I taste on my lips


-Clara Hsu-

Monarch

Note: I am leaving this post up for the entire month of May in honor of the
Monarch Bear, who died in the month of May 100 years ago.  

Fast asleep---
Heartbeat slows to ceasing
After the stroke of midnight

And then

Jehanah rises immediately from slumber
From her bed upon spotting
A wandering monarch,
The bear the rest of Humanity declared a king.
Jehanah follows the great brown bear
Through her bedroom door
Serving as a threshold
To a warm sunny forest
Of redwoods & aged oaks &
Dirt trails formed from human travellings,
Where she has free rein to commence
Her spiral dance.
Tributes paid in graceful
Movements across soft grass to
All four directions, the yin, the yang & her beloved
Chosen goddess.

The monarch bear,
Spirit-animal of her literary
Lifelong prayers,
Led her here.
Jehanah is the iconic, poetic Druidic
Mother of a new grove
In the hereafter.

- Dee Allen -

Beltane Blessing

It is established and steadfast and bright and true,
That from Beltaine eve, Summerland magic leaps through,
And as a cup full of the fullness of natures invocation,
Generous as three times thrice the incantations wisdom to view.

Before the Sky and the Earth and the Sea, they have all called together,
Before the Sun and the Moon and the Stars, they have spoken as one,
By the breath of the Taliesin and of the Ganna Bandruich,
Upon the height of the hill of the many feathered winds,
Of the Eight Lesser Winds and Four Major Winds and a Wind Above all the winds as yet still not hewn,
From the Druids tongue of flames, a roaring fire will be declared here, twice in the runes,
It is a Blaze that will go all around them to the left and to the right,
To purify the night, turning aside adversity and transformed in its shape,
To burst forth the day of flowers, which is certain.

Star light shining bright empowers the Queen of the Faeries this night,
Be also empowered O people of the world lest you melt in her powerful sight,
Be not a ghost all spindled in Wonder exceeding Wonder,
But see the Fairy Host dancing within forest field and river, chanting and singing petitions of hope in the heart,
Each of a hundred-fold Sidhe will go around you and around you, 
And they will come upon Him as it is always arranged,
And they will Vanish in the morning light, interwoven with the cool dew and the soft light,
And they will yield away completely, melt into forever the home of the fey.

I do bestow a fishfull sea and fertile lands soon prolific with prosperous harvests,
And green and fruited trees drooping down with the heavy growth of the fruits upon them,
And waxing fleshfull fleeced and round of sheep, goats and cattle amongst the fresh filled pastures roaming,
And delight as the Maidens sweet as wild honey each, and as fair as the lily after spring has spoken.

Joy/As May Queen manifest and with her the Green Man to the Great Rite eternal today,
A Sacred Marriage shall arise among them as in precious Chalice they set Earth's Athame..
Opening here the secret gates behind the departed darkness of night, 
And outside of the brilliance of the brightness of day,
And our flowering ones will lead us in to the Summerlands, the excellent lands, in the most beautiful way.

Be celebrated each and all then in this dance of the May,
As maids skip a ring, A' conjuring the new Summer in,
Weaving lives, love and laughter, beside and before you, weaving bright welcome gladness all around.

And By the essence of the Oak, of Rowan and of Hawthorn in hedgerow,
By the magical energy within which I turn,
Peace Joy and Abundance to the Sky and to the Earth beneath Sky, 
And to all of the peoples upon the Earth on this day
And of the binding of this blessing, I do myself bind it,
To the heart be it binded, a deep blessing from today.

It is established.

-Celestial Elf-

http://celestialelfdanceoflife.blogspot.com/

Beltane Festival

Remembering

JEHANAH

(1941-2010)

Beltane Festival

MONARCH BEAR GROVE

Sunday, May 8^th, 10:00 to 12:00

bring yourself, bring a friend, bring poems, stories, and songs

dance again, laugh again, sing again, feed the ravens again

wear your finest fae frock in honor of the Fairie Queene

bring a colorful ribbon and take a whirl around the Maypole

come out and play again, and share your memories of Jehanah

mother, grandmother, aunt, poet, and druid grove mother

Heading West into Golden Gate Park, follow Middle Drive E. On the South side of the street, across from the Academy of Sciences, between the AIDS Memorial Grove and the Handball Courts, there is a grassy clearing leading up the hill to a path on the right. Monarch Bear Grove is situated at the top of the knoll,

and there you will find the stones.

RSVP IN BLOG COMMENT SPACE

Poetry In The Temple

Jehanah at the Sacred Grounds

Poetry is my doctor.

Poetry is my priest.

Poetry will fight for me when no one else will.

Poetry will hold me and cradle me, and

Poetry will rock me softly like my mother ocean.

Poetry will love me and poetry will forgive me

And curse me and contend with me.

Poetry will read me my rights

And take them away, and laugh

And cry.  Poetry will remember my friends to me...

The long-dead ghosts the most.

Poetry will come to me like family

To teach me thy family ways.

Poetry will birth me and run with me, and

Lie with me on my deathbed,

Holding my hands in perfect peace.

Poetry will bring me the Meaning.

Poetry will forget everything

In one blinding flash of light.

Poetry will be everywhere in

The You-n-Eye Verse Past/Present/Future

Simultaneously at once

Forever and ever and ever.

Amen.

(New words of poetry always come)

Poetry is the Temple.

I cannot find a way out.

Poetry is.

Alone In The Desert (Sort Of)

Jenna & Dennis

I'm a recluse, I was raised in the desert.

I remember only sand twinkling through my toes,

And stars there were only stars

     dancing me around

A lively place,

Quiet, silent with the shout of tarantulas,

Reverberating, with snake calls,

With the acrid love/death-call of the vinegaroon,

With the swishes of horned toads,

     between stone-silent meditations...

Mirroring the surround in convex eyeballs

Concaving into reality within/out.

I'm a recluse.  I was raised in the desert.

The mountain means to me I go on forever.

The endless sky taunts me

     with again and again and again.

With the nearest kid five miles away,

Me and my stone barn in the desert.

Me and my fifty chickens.

Me and my five great danes to protect from the wolves

And my mother to protect me from my wickedness.

I went barefoot without her permission

since she locked me out.

Dare I tell all?  yet the desert protected me in warmth.

I found I could talk to wolves and explain to them

How to behave with decorum

And not eat great dane puppies, since they are of a race

     like men I have seen.

And one wolf marked me with a nip...

Just to let me know he knew I was right

And he'd leave the pups alone,

But that eh could still kick my ass if he wanted.

But I was only a puppy.

Wolves and great danes and tarantulas

We lived together and protected my mother

   from our wickedness

I went barefoot without her permission

since she locked me out.

The Ancestors

The ancestors are with us tonight.
They sit laughing on the mountains.
They swing through silent forests on midnight wings.
They come in the form of bears.
Long-dead, extinct, alive in our totem heart of hearts.
They whisper when we need counsel,
Wondering at our fears.
The ancestors are after all, here.

They are with us tonight.
They bring old forms of poetry.
Writing it in wings of birds, leaves of trees beckoning
They show us how to call up memory.
they help us to forget what we cannot contain,
Knowing full well all memory will never die
In the subtle heart of the glorious beast.

We must remember, lest we forget:
We are the ancestors reborn.
The ancestors are here tonight.
Lest we forget, we are here.
The ancestors are alive and well.

-Jehanah-