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Writings and Photography by George Dula, Dooley MacBride &  Hemlock Evergreen
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My Journey Continues

Its with a special knowledge I’d left that place
Enraptured by the one I’d met – who was myself;
Man of the past, man who I’d been, who I’ve become,
Now part of me fully as my, as our journey continues…

Steadily downwards my road winds in a serpentine path,
Labyrinth of my life’s steady wanderings
From here to…where, parts unbeknownst –
Yet my goal is ahead, though just out of mind’s reach…

Long ago I died yet my spirit lingered – even still,
With memory of my Love’s keening o’er my sallow form;
Was a song sung beneath the wailing of love and loss,
Of a sorrow most profound at her betrothed’s death?

This I know not, for that memory’s not quite there
Yet it haunts me as my road ahead is found,
As fields and trees slip by me, mostly unseen,
For my mind’s wandering too, taken me to another place…

The circle of stones now resides to my back
But how do I know that, were my steps retraced,
No standing stones would be found, not quite yet,
For they’ve gone back into the realms of the mysts…

Someday, perhaps, I’ll walk this way again
Or maybe they’ll be found another time, someplace else;
I don’t pretend to begin to understand – yet…
I know what’s real, and the mysts have become that….

Suddenly, silently, a movement made me start
As a magnificent hart entered my path
Leaping and bounding towards me, then stopping short
Standing there afore me, breathing his hot breath into my face…

We stood there for hours or seconds, I do not know,
Our breaths through flared nostrils as awaiting the next –
Then, slowly, he lowered his mighty antlered head
And I saw it – a golden ring placed upon his rack…

Nudging his pointed antlers toward me
I knew that the gift was mine
As, reaching out I grasped the ring,
Warm and hard in my hand…

We gazed into each others’ eyes another moment
Before he walked slowly away then leapt from the path
As the forest primeval took him back into its fold
And I swear I heard laughter, wholesome hearty laughter
        which did my heart good…

The ring, the ring, I began turning it over on my palm
Full of runes of power on a backdrop of knotwork of old
Outside and in the pattern continued, this gift granted me
Ancient symbol, yet as I’d never seen before – or since…

Somehow then I knew from whence it had come,
From down through the ages by one who’d loved me,
By a special woman with knowledge of grand powers,
Druid’s daughter, she who’d mourned my passing…

How did I know this, what this rare token meant?
I placed it upon my ring finger of my left hand – and it fit!
Such a feeling of gentle loving peace then overcame me
For I knew a handfasting of old was almost complete…

Then continuing my walking along that shaded path
My foot caught a root which I swear had not been there afore
Falling, I scratching myself on a hawthorne’s sharp thorns
Tearing my hand with blood trickling down my wrist…

Reaching out to steady myself upon a branch
I pulled my hand back then realized by my glance
That I’d left blood upon a place of bare green-gray bark
And that the tree was witchhazel, feminine tree of the woods…

Then an owl cried out as I heard movement in the branches
And the wind suddenly howled from afar, moving closer
Wind as a keening, yet with hidden notes within,
A song on the winds, full of love this time, not sadness…

Somehow I knew then as a soft warmth wrapped my soul
A prophesy had been fulfilled that day – from long long ago
I felt an inner peace as from within myself, I smiled
And I felt the man I’d once been kiss her, of the spiritual realm…


I awakened the next morning upon a bed of soft mosses,
My clothes folded neatly on the rocks to my side
With the not-unpleasant soreness of use at my loins
And I knew that a consummation had finally occurred…

A vessel I’d become for the man who I’d been,
A man who’d died before his time in grand sorrow,
Loved by a Druid woman, alive and warm in his arms
Yet never had they been together, for in that life it could not be…


I lingered there till the sun rose high overhead
Savoring what had happened, trying to remember
As tidbits of the night’s progress slowly returned
As I fondled the ring on my finger, as I smiled,
        as I’d been loved…and she, finally, was set free…


Written in 2008 by Hemlock Evergreen

© George Dula

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