Poetry: Mian le linn Oíche Shamhna
Mian le linn Oíche Shamhna
Once again, it’s that time of year,
When all humans succumb to fear,
Humanity’s joys and sorrow,
Are sadly mine to borrow,
As I continue to mourn the flowers in my garden.
My Moon Flower, tainted black with my rage,
In the end she had helped me turn a page.
Unlocked the doors of my mind,
The ones which for so long I hid behind.
The death of my shell,
The rebirth of what once fell,
I thank you, my Moon Flower, for breaking this spell.
Resplendent lotus, black as night,
You were the one who drove me to fight.
Many years now have you been gone,
Long has it been, since I enjoyed the dawn.
Powerful as you were, you could not subdue me,
Powerful as I am, I taught you how to see.
I long for our banter and miss you so dearly,
For you are the one who revealed my needs clearly.
Rose, Rose, I could not forget,
Please forgive me, my dearest rosette.
In this garden you are my Queen,
How I miss those eyes of emerald green.
You have taught me to pay respects to the dead,
These three days I no longer dread,
Samhain is a time to mourn and guide,
Those lingering spirits on life’s final ride.
Of all our promises, I have kept but one,
And with this, hopefully that deed will be done.
Our souls remain, eternally bound,
As per your wishes, a new happiness I’ve found,
Every year on these three days, I vow to continue and help those part ways,
Guiding spirits from the mortal plain,
From their anguish they can refrain,
As the child of Life and Death,
I will eternally honour that request.
One day I shall join you three in my garden,
And accept punishment for my sins,
As my heart gets warm from your lovely grins.
May my three flowers bloom again this year for Samhain.
Grá síoraí ó do nathair sionnach agus do ulchabhán.