Wednesday, May 24, 2017

For Mo

The past few nights, I've set aside
my most recent technique to quiet and still
the monkey mind while falling asleep.
(more about that another time)

I lay very still, burrowed deep into the covers
warmth surrounds me
My eyes quietly close
I am resting

My mind's eye sees Mo's place,
delicate, old and
in need of special magic from many

I see myself pick up a bodhrán drum I once saw,
beautifully painted with a howling wolf

I begin a steady beat
first in my heart, moving throughout my whole being

I begin silently chanting

Hey oh, oh
Hey oh, oh
Sing a song
for old lady bones
Tunnel below
Tunnel through
Ain't no place 
for old house bones
Ain't no place
to hold these bones
Hey oh, oh
Hey oh, oh
Hold her strong
Hold her long
Sing a song
for these old bones
Hey oh, oh
Hey oh, oh

My voice silently drifts off
I am still
Dearest Mo, may the good thoughts/actions/prayers/magic of many carry all of you through.

Below is a link for the type of drum I mention if you are so inclined.

May the chants of the nights carry you through your days,