Samhain
A poem in honor of the season
It’s the part of the wheel when things start to close down
And shadows, dark, and the cold, come to rule
Like a fog sliding in, it envelopes the warmth
And fosters things quiet and cool
We have harvested memories, tallied success
From summer, when living was king
Things that started as visions on long winter’s nights
Expanded in the slow thaw of spring.
Spring is time of the Maiden, when new life and promises grow
Our minds are the gardens
Ideas planted like seeds
Waiting with anticipation
For summer to make real our dreams.
When the ground starts to soften
Our dreams set in motion,
Winter’s musings now turn to Spring’s plans
We soak up the sun buoyancy on those lengthening days
And use it as fuel to test out our new theories
We want to be out with the wind on our skin
Connecting with friends and with family
Capturing moments in pictures on phones
Of our feet connecting again with the land
Spring is a Maiden, so summer’s the Mother
Giving birth to our seedlings from spring
Moving from latent potential
To the full bloom realization of dreams
The role of the mother is well suited for summer
Making lists titled would, could, and should.
In the light of long days, we produce and preform
And enjoy all that we have acquired
The days start to condense, and the light starts to change
Recreation slows as the sun’s exuberance wanes
Shorter days, like grey hairs
Mark the passing of time
As summer slowly comes to a close
Autumn, the promised return of routine
When schedules replace improvisation
Days settle into a regular pace
The calendar now has a few empty spaces
Time we can use to harvest our memories
Created back in the long days of summer
Fall is an intuitive time of the year
The season of the Crone, or the Hag
The focus turns more towards remembering than doing
Looking back rather than further ahead
Now past the heady potential of youth
And no longer craving others’ approval
Gone is the obligation to offer life bios
Or be concerned about what others may think
It’s true I do sense I have been here before
This is not my first carousel ride
I’ve had lives that were filled with the dreaming and doing
Of spring Maiden and summertime Bride
In wintertime I can ponder the lessons
From memories I’ve gathered so far
Perch myself by the stone of the old Hag of Beara,
Don the jeweled crusted crown of the Crone
I’m not bothered by wrinkles or white strands in my hair
Acquired with pride through the years
They attest to the storms I have weathered
And the hard lessons of youth I have gained
I just want to play the Wise Woman
Past the point of pretending to care
How the world defines worth or picks beauty
And maybe to honestly share
Any wisdom I’ve gleaned through the passing of years
But you’ll need a thick skin if you seek it
I won’t waste your time with sugar or lies
The truth will be told as I see it
In Irish they call her Cailleach
Which translates to “veiled one”
She lives in the Thin Place
Between here and the past
She’s the goddess of death in the winter,
And a stone near a Kilcatherine shore
Said to return to form ever Samhain
With the ancestors at All Hallows’ door
She reminds us, all that is gone is not lost
Death comes before springtime’s new births
Colorful leaves are discarded as their usefulness dies
Changing form to nourish the next cycles’ rise
I’ll celebrate this feast of Samhain
Inviting the shadows and cold
As guests to share tea by the fire
And ask them for stories of ‘auld
Tonight, I remember those who came before me
I honor the gifts they passed on
And appreciate the hardships endured to put roots
In the rocky soil that I so deeply love
Quickly sliding towards the end of the year
No longer needing Autumn’s harvesting tools
Used to collect memories from Summer and Spring
That were dreamt at the start of this wheel
We planted seeds in first months of the year
As New Year thawed, and life started to stir
They may have been wishes of what summer would bring
Maybe events that would nourish the soul
The solstice brings balance to both day and night
So rare it only takes place twice a year
Then the long days of winter start gathering light
The long nights will slowly disappear
Hibernation gives darkness
Where dreams can be planted
Hidden from anyone’s view
In the soul it begins germination
Waiting for the defrost to begin
When the new cycle starts over
And new life begins
So does excitement for what the new year users in.


Love, love this Marie. The Maiden, Mother, Wild Women and Crone, sprinkled through out this piece. Along with beautiful movements as the seasons take hold and the gifts they leave behind.