As I stood within this ancient Iron Age fort of stone
Dark clouds hid the wind that chilled me to the bone
The voices of waves hissed below on the sandy shore
And I was transported back to the Celtic time of lore.
Of ancient Druids and sun gods, mystery and wonder,
Battles, life and death, with clans at war and plunder.
Bonfires crackled as sparks traced upwards to the sky,
Turf smoke and wood competed to blind the weary eye.
Warriors stood on guard their weapons held close to hand
And in the distance people moved across the sacred land.
A gathering of the clans to share together the season’s birth
Of a sacred wonderment and reunion shrouded in mirth.
Chants rose softly as people sensed the hour was almost here
Excitement spreads around and so to a cautious sense of fear.
An uillean pipe haunts the darkness then a fiddle weeps a lament
But they blend and weave a haunting tapestry that is heaven sent.
I see the crowd around me their silent appreciation leave their mark
Candles flicker and soften faces as a beam pierces through the dark.
A sun rise of the ancients greets the generations standing here
The silence warmly welcomed reflected by an emotion in a tear.
Then through the ancient stones light floods the chamber once again
Older then the Egyptian Pyramids this marvel excites as it did back then.
Strangers hug each other as they struggle with emotions hard to tame
Not a word is spoken, some weep although they all must feel the same.
When all is passed and daylight rules, we linger longer then we should.
With spirits refueled we reflect on what now flows through Celtic blood .
Copyright © Seosamh De Burca | Year Posted 2016