Taken from The Midwinter 2017 Celtic Reiki Community Newsletter
From the Realm of Meadows, to the Sweet Syrup Trail,
Robertson’s Copse to Nightshade Vale,
The folk of the woodland would look to sky
To see the smoke and reply with a sigh
For the folk of the woodland, knew of the cross,
Knew of those killed and knew of their loss,
As they gazed to the sky, then cast their eye low
They pitied the Knowes-folk who knew not what they know.
These were the folk whom the woodland mourned so,
These were the lost, alone, left to go
Where the darkness would hide them, and no sunlight would fall
To remind us of those who were not different at all.
For we all feel different, we all feel the same,
We love who we love, for the heart is not tame,
The thoughts that seem different, build the same thought
The actions we act, don’t contrast as they ought.
For before it was you, she, them, me and him
Today, those yet to come and those who have been
Tomorrow, who knows from the Knowes to Tryst
What rights we may know and what wrongs we have missed.
For the Fell Witch reminds us of what lurks inside,
The fingers we point and the lies that we hide,
We protest that we’re good and others are bad,
Yet, she knows all our cobbles yet to come, that we had.
For who forgets the murk of Old Hobbs Cross,
Forgets the pain and forgets the loss,
Forges a path to the Fell Witch, a path to strife
For stories are stories, and life is life.