Monday, October 15, 2012

Guest Post : Samhein - Mark Henwick

 
 
 
Samhain
 
Bow the head. Honor the dead
Summer’s dying. Leaves are flying.
Samhain!
 
We are creatures of the light, and the light is dying on All Hallow’s Eve. The nights draw in, children. Come, gather to the fire. Closer, now. Tuck that blanket in. Hug that warmth to you. You’ll be glad, soon. So very glad.
Closer.
Listen.
 
The dirge is drumming: Winter’s coming.
Autumn’s breath is summer’s death.
Samhain!
 
Shiver. The cold creeps up on you. Come, drink a mug of chocolate with me. Warm inside, warm outside, eh? Gather closer. See, there, the trembling in your mug. That’s the devil’s footfall outside. Stomping through the autumn leaves, stirring them up in a cloud, loud and cloven-hoofed.
Listen.
 
Winter’s chilling. The blood is stilling.
Feed the fire. Flames leap higher.
Samhain!
 
Wood! More wood now. Keep the fire bright and lively. Hold the dark at bay. Listen. Use the summer’s dry wood. Don’t put greenwood to the flame. The flames must dance and the fire must roar, not smoke and hiss and spit.
Listen.
 
Smoke that curls, makes a fairy’s wing,
They’ll open the door, let the others in.
Samhain!
 
Don’t sleep. Oh, don’t sleep, no. The little death. The thief of life. The Sidhe host is waiting. Sleep now and they’ll take your souls and ride them, crying, high and wide across the bleak, black night.
Closer. Closer now.
Listen.

 
 
Trees are bent to the souls’ lament,
The wind is rising, Sidhe come guising.
Samhain!
 
Trust me, the dark stranger at the feast. You must let me in, feed me. I’m a teller of tales. My words will keep the night away. Gather closer to the fire, now. Hallow this eve, make it holy, for the worlds draw close and the veil between grows thin.
Listen.
 
Ravens rustle, hedgerows bustle
All grows still, ’fore winter’s will.
Samhain!
 
E’en awake, they touch you. They send you dreams and fears, nightmares and hope. Once touched, never the same. Gather to the fire, children. Every tale ever told, as many as all the leaves in all the fields, spinning up like the devil, they all press themselves to you. Shake a sleepy head and they stir, like ravens from the storm lashed woods, and settle back, whispering into the night.
Gather closer.
Now, now, look into the flames and let the wind be the wind. The day is done, let the storm come, carry cares away into the deep, dark sky.
 
 
Awake to ashes and cold winter sun.
Pale you will be and the pale is begun.
Samhain.
 
 
 

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