Talking With the Trees

Okanagan Okanogan

Here’s a dolmen in North Wales. Note the tree.P1110021

The dolmen is thousands of years older than the tree. It has a lid, to keep out the rain, I guess. Like a tree. It’s rather held up like an offering, too. By its friends. Nice.


You can put your dead people inside. The lid keeps them in. Kind of as if the earth were a stone tree, really.

P1100995It’s not so different  than what the Welsh did a few thousand years later. Only thing is, they did all that masonry to build a gate, and inside, well, every person got a slate slab, stuck up on its end, as if they were men and women waiting for Christ to walk in that door.P1110064 Or to come from the sea.


The rocks have their way with us. “We will be men,” they say. And we oblige. And of those men? Well…

View original post 81 more words

~ by Sable Aradia on January 17, 2015.

3 Responses to “Talking With the Trees”

  1. Bach-wen Cromlech

    Look at the shape I’m in.
    I am crouched under a low

    doorway made of stone,
    and stars are pressing down upon the roof.

    I have lost the shape I was and have not
    yet found the new shape of this place,

    except it rushes forward and retreats —
    I remember that from the old life I lived

    with wife, daughter, dog, and the big
    house above the sunflowers

    that I was always painting, over and over,
    as my heart beat. That’s it, it was a heart,

    and I fed it well — wine, apples, meat.
    I kept in shape for it and it

    pounded every minute out flat until I found
    myself here a long way from home,

    the touch of lichen on my fingers, the cold
    of wood upon my cheek, the burn

    of water in my ear and the high cold
    air rising to the space where once there were

    stars but now is only the shape
    of things to come.

    from The Spoken World by Harold Rhenisch (Hagios Press, 2011)

  2. You’re most welcome.

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