In the Otherworld

Photo by Niklas Veenhuis on Unsplash

I am in the process of recovering and discovering bits of Celtic mythology, which feels a bit like lying down in the soil that birthed my ancestors. So, naturally, a lot of pieces and parts of the old myths are coming up when I dream or when I meditate.

At the center of the spiral sits a crow, wings outstretched.

They would have me believe that this is the harbinger of death—

My own, or someone close to me.

They would have me believe that it is time to be on my guard,

knowing that something will be snatched from me soon, without warning —

I must loosen my hold

so that my hand is not snatched away as well.

I made the spiral.

I called the crow.

I hold the space where they appeared in my dream --

and so I say this is not the harbinger of death but simply the reminder --

Be cunning and fearless,

relentless in the pursuit of all things shiny and beautiful.

Hold with the strength of the deep-rooted trees

that which is worthy to be held.

Everything else can go on the next passing breeze.