I'm listening yet I don't know
If what I hear is silence
Or God.
I'm listening but I can't tell
If I hear the plain of emptiness echoing
Or a keen consciousness that
At the bounds of the universe
Deciphers and watches me.
I only know I walk like someone
Beheld beloved and known
And because of this I put into my every movement
Solemnity and risk.
'That'll put the jizz back in you,'
said old Brid, her eyes glinting,
as she handed me a bowl of real water
from the purest well in Gleann an Atha...
'It's had to find a well these days,'
said old Brid, filling up my bowl again.
'They're hiding in rushes and juking in grass,
all choked up and clatty with scum
but for all the neglect they get
their mettle is still true.
Look for your own well, pet,
for there's a hard time coming.
There will have to be a going back to sources.'
~ Cathal Ó Searcaigh in THE WELL (quoted in IF WOMEN ROSE ROOTED by Sharon Blackie)
