Thursday, 6 September 2012

On Hearing of an Artist at the Celtic Festival of Acadia

The artist cut one Maple Tree

And made of it nine instruments

He will bring them once

Together again

For a single night to play.

And who would not wait with sacred longing

For the playing of the nine

From the broken tree?

Who would not hope from such a moment

A taste of the soul’s wild ecstasy?

The Maple Tree sings in many voices

A song cut from a single heart

And peace

And balance

And practicality

All are surpassed in this final


Sweetness of utter intoxication.


And open, surrendered and free.

The Maple divided is now resurrected.

The song of the nine

Is the Song of the Three.

Sarah de Nordwall September 6th 2012

1 comment:

  1. YES!

    This just breathes heaven - I'm sitting here all misty-eyed, dammit!

    Sarah, this poem harmonises so perfectly with my sensibilities, it's almost like I wrote it!

    Thank you, sister of my heart!