For those who lost their tongues


 

 

The Middle earth – this holding land,

the indigenous of our tribe,

the people of my heritage,

their medicine

and their myths, where dragons and elves

 

not only in dreams

 

as kings fought for their forests,

the land,

the sacred medicine

where beasts and other-worlds live

 

as one

 

but those who burnt

at the stake,

and those who

lost their tongues

 

were silenced,

 

bloody and burnt –

I sat there,

her at my back stirring my own cauldron,

knowing when the time was right,

they would come

to listen, to know, to receive

the wisdom of the old one,

 

the witch, the crone

 

And she – the seer,

through my eyes,

through my songs,

would touch those hearts

and that same medicine

that flows,

 

now at this time

the time that is right

for the empowerment of her voice

and the worlds of middle-earth

brought back to life

back to the hearts

 

of our own lineage

 

For I feel the wounds of my great, great, great grandmothers

and I dig my hands and my roots into their soil,

I sing the songs of those ancestors,

their voice will be freed through mine

 

and their screams ‘will’ be heard

and their wisdom will be -released

 

And those who have been forgotten

that flesh – and that bone

in my dreams will – be – remembered

for our ancestors need be sung

 

if we are meant to heal

 

And that soul of our humanity,

 as the old one prays,

 will return for sure

in that voice of mystery

mending the betrayal

 

of our broken ways

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