Upon Each Samhain

I miss you most upon each Samhain

When the boundary turns to sheer

I wait until the veil is parted

At the ending of the year.

Sweet spirit, as you walk among us

At the tolling of this eve

I see your face beyond the sunset

And hear your voice upon the breeze.

In the glowing of the candle,

From the shadow on the wall

I watch for you in every movement

And hear your footsteps in the hall.

Can you sit and spend the evening

As the portal opens wide?

Ancestral dead, I bid you welcome,

Most recent dead, I pray, abide.

When you come I sense your presence

I put my hand out in the air

A moment, then, we stand united

Palm to palm while waiting there.

I miss you most upon each Samhain

When the boundary turns to sheer

We share these hours until the dawning

Then bid farewell until next year.

~ David O. Norris

Tags: poetry

High Flight

 Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,
 And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
 Sunwards I’ve climbed and joined the tumbling mirth
 Of sun-split clouds – and done a thousand things
 You have not dreamed of - wheeled and soared and swung
 High in the sunlit silence. Hovering there,
 I’ve chased the shouting wind along and flung
 My eager craft through footless halls of air,
 Up, up the long delirious burning blue
 I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace,
 Where never lark, or even eagle, flew;
 And, while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod
 The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
 Put out my hand, and touched the face of god.

~John Magee