If I were a doran
Gulácsy, Lajos - Ecstasy (ca 1908).jpg
If I were a witch,
I would not fly around crowing.
Instead, I would be the kind of witch
The Irish call a Doran.
I will not wear a pointy hat or stir up pots of trouble.
I will wear a special cloak.
Be gifted with a special kind of knowing:
Where I was needed
Where I must go
When called by forces
By pulls
By tugs
By the one
Who calls for the special kind
Of knowing
Only I can know.
I will follow
Follow the longing
who longs for me.
With my cloak
Wrapped around my soul,
I will begin the journey
Of looking to find the one
Who’s looking for me.
A flask of clear water
I will carry with me
In a cobalt bottle
Tucked in the deep pockets
Of my very special cloak
Made out yarns
Dyed and woven
Carefully sewn together
With care and knowing,
A drape of softness some will not feel
As I travel to be with the one who’s real,
Only a whisper as I travel by
Making others look up but not knowing why,
Chanting good tidings as I proceed
With my mission to find
The loved one who’s searching for me.
His voice,
His melodies,
His rhythms, words and flow
Dancing in the moonlight as I go
Making shadows with the moon
Listening for the rhymes of his special tune.
Giving thanks for the universe.
Giving thanks for you.
Carrying the clear water in my cloak,
Stealing behind trees,
Shadowing the shadows
I know what he needs:
No longer to hurt
Or feel the burns
Of too many battles
Fought on too many sands
Disappearing will be the ghosts in his haunted lands.
Sailing across the deepest seas
I will not give up
‘til I find the one who’s
Looking for me.
And where I find him
Wherever it takes
On mountain top or on island
In meadow or by lake,
I will find the one.
Make all his hurts go away.
When I appear to him who’s called for me,
His eyes
Will see,
Will know
I’ve journeyed far and wide
To bathe him in my clear water
To be by his side:
The one he has yearned for,
The one he has longed for,
The one who brings the clear water
Has now arrived.
Standing in front of him,
My cloak will fall to my feet.
He who has called
Will
Look!
See!
This woman!
This doran!
His eyes no longer
Red and weary
Will see a spectacular sight:
Colors draped in my cloak
Ease out from the seams
Creating a glorious sight to see:
Waterfalls overflowing
So clear
So blue
Spraying a mist
Springing to life
Making the old into new.
Along the banks of the bluest blue
Lushness in every shade of green,
A shining light spilling glitter and gold
Creating a most heavenly sheen,
For this story will have been told
Many times
Over and over
So long ago
To a very special doran
Wearing a very special cloak:
Go find the one who’s callin’
Who’s courageous
Who’s bold!
Bathe him in this clear water.
Take his hand.
Hold him close.
For you will’ve discovered his
heart beats true.
You will’ve found the one
Who’s been calling for you!
Wise Child occurs in Scotland of the 13th to 17th centuries [1] and after our heroine’s grandmother passes, Wise Child finds herself living with the local doran or witch Juniper. http://bookchronicle.wordpress.com/2008/02/04/wise-child-by-monica-furlong-1987/
