On The Turning Of The Wheel

Solstice Eve, 2022

Dec 21, 2022

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Another world is possible
just next door
in between our breath
brighter than
vision...

Entangled deep within
our beingness
all is waiting
over imaginal horizon
lines.

Gwyllm

_____________________

Here we are, on the Cusp again of the Winter Solstice. We have not had our traditional gathering in the last 3 years. Sad stuff, but we must protect those whose health is iffy. Still, tomorrow we will light the fires for the coming of the light.

Still I would share a poem that has been part of our ceremony for 3 Decades, from that wonderful poet, Robert Graves written for his son, Juan (John):

To Juan at the Winter Solstice

There is one story and one story only
That will prove worth your telling,
Whether are learned bard or gifted child;
To it all lines or lesser gauds belong
That startle with their shining
Such common stories as they stray into.

Is it of trees you tell, their months and virtues,
Or strange beasts that beset you,
Of birds that croak at you the Triple will?
Or of the Zodiac and how slow it turns
Below the Boreal Crown,
Prison of all true kings that ever reigned?

Water to water, ark again to ark,
From woman back to woman:
So each new victim treads unfalteringly
The never altered circuit of his fate,
Bringing twelve peers as witness
Both to his starry rise and starry fall.

Or is it of the Virgin’s silver beauty,
All fish below the thighs?
She in her left hand bears a leafy quince;
When, with her right she crooks a finger smiling,
How may the King hold back?
Royally then he barters life for love.

Or of the undying snake from chaos hatched,
Whose coils contain the ocean,
Into whose chops with naked sword he springs,
Then in black water, tangled by the reeds,
Battles three days and nights,
To be spewed up beside her scalloped shore?

Much snow is falling, winds roar hollowly,
The owl hoots from the elder,
Fear in your heart cries to the loving—cup:
Sorrow to sorrow as the sparks fly upward.
The log groans and confesses
There is one story and one story only.

Dwell on her graciousness, dwell on her smiling,
Do not forget what flowers
The great boar trampled down in ivy time.
Her brow was creamy as the crested wave,
Her sea—blue eyes were wild
But nothing promised that is not performed.

This is one of my favourite Robert Graves poems. His work is well worth dipping into. I would suggest The White Goddess if you want a deep dive… A bit heavy perhaps. His fiction is lovely as well...