Burial

A Poem for Calan Mai

Two gods fight. Two dragons circle the sky.
A scream is in my mouth – soon my god will be gone.

He dies so the bluebells, mayflowers, hawthorn blossoms thrive,
baby birds pecking from eggs stumbling pink into the dawn.

There will be a victory tonight and there will be a wedding.
There will be a death tonight and there will be a burial.

Whilst lovers dance the maypole and tryst in the woods
I will walk alone without a bouquet and in silence

down forgotten paths to the castle of cold stone
where winter is entombed while summer rules

to pay my regards in tears of dew and mourning songs
amongst the kindly fay, the winged horses, the howling hounds.

While others laugh at the wedding I will weep at the funeral.
I will bury two dragons in the stone chest of my heart.

I will bury two dragons

My Scream Over Annwn

If the ninth person comes to ask for land, his proprietorship is extinguished, and he gives a shriek… and that is called diasbad uwch Annwfn.’
The Laws of Hywel Dda

Every May Eve… your dragon gives out a horrible scream.’
Lludd and Llefelys

I.
I am not a ninth son.
I am not an only daughter.
I am not dispossessed but I will scream.

I will scream in dragon’s fire.
I will scream in dragon’s blood.
I will scream myself dry

for those who have lost their land,
their kin, their deepest dreams.

II.
I will scream because I have walked
where harpers play in the stars, looked down
on the beauty of our mother earth
and seen her dirtied

by petrochemical giants with top hats of fracking rigs,
oil rigs, gas rigs, refineries, distilleries lit up
like the Blackpool Illuminations
along our coastlines

great big selfish hands throwing plastic into the seas.

III.
I will scream because I have walked
countless cities wrecked by war planes hearts hanging out
like the untied shoelaces of civilians
who had no chance to flee

seen the bombs, the bullets, the missiles,
plastic water bottles bouncing down the streets,
schools and hospitals in flames,
burning aid-workers

and the long long trains of landless refugees.

III.
I will scream because I have walked
where ice caps melt the Polar Vortex melts down
and the Polar Night Jet unravels
unleashing a Yeatsian Beast

leaving a trail of the withered dead –
tired old trees, frail crocuses, the homeless.

How we demonise the weather and refuse to face our demons!

This is madness, madness, madness, madness, madness pumping
through my searing veins and heaving in my dragon’s chest.

V.
I will scream and wish myself possessed by the spirits of Annwn.

Spirits of Annwn I call on you. Spirits of Annwn I summon you.
Bring terror to all who profit from the desecration of our mother.

Spirits of Annwn I call on you. Spirits of Annwn I summon you.
Make their businesses barren, make their money dust and leaves.

Spirits of Annwn I call on you. Spirits of Annwn I summon you.
Drain them of strength and colour and bring them to their knees.

Spirits of Annwn I call on you. Spirits of Annwn I summon you.
Bring them to kneel at altars of compost and resurfacing streams.

Let me be your dragon and I will scream ‘til the end of this world.

Let me be your dragon

You can find out more about the Scream Over Annwn and its connection with the red dragon HERE.