Beloved Land: Poems from Eir Glanfath

"The Tree, The Wind

Who shall hear the voice of the wind?

Its beauty resplendent, unseen, intangible

Its tongue whispers the oath,

‘I move, I carry.

Always will I fly

and always will I change.

For nothing is permanent.

Nothing escapes my grasp.’

Who shall call the heart of the wind?

It travels swiftly, fiercely, untouchable

Its fist howls the promise,

‘I push, I break.

Never will I stop

And never will I land

All is in my domain

And all bend to my will.’

Who shall resist the force of the wind?

Its anger presses, pushes, drives

And the tree answers its call

’Yes.

Your voice is

loud. Your name is

grand. Your force is

mighty. I shall not

resist. I will not

defy.

I will

bend.

Your

power shall wash over me.

You want me to bow. I will

bow. But I will always stand.

I will always return.

I will always recover.

That is my pledge. That is my promise. That is my oath.’"