Tobar

Deep underground it travels unseen,
carving its course through mineral
and moss, descending and rising,
it bestows the land with life.

Inside a secret copse of trees,
it springs, crystal cold and clear,
encoded with an ancient memory
of when the land was whole.

No division, no borders,
no mine or yours,
a wildness sang through the land,
where everything belonged.

Can you hear the voice of the water?

It’s calling us back to the land,
back to the roots
that feed us and breath us,
and nourish us all the way through.

It is asking us to live in balance,
in sacred reciprocity,
to plant, to harvest, to celebrate
each season and cycle,
to remember
the circle of kinship is wide,
it touches the soil, the stars,
the rivers, our eyes.
Live in the circle,
for the earth needs us to rise.

Who will drink at the holy tobar?

This poem is inspired by the book Land by Maggie O’Farrell, a wonderful novel that weaves time and story around a holy tobar (spring) and the land that holds us all. It is also inspired by my visit to a tobar in Ireland, called St. Coleman’s well; a truly magical place. One walks across the stony burren and enters into a small copse of trees where water springs up and there everything has turned into a green fairy land, bursting with life (my photos are from here).