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Fodla and Eriu

I thought I heard Fodla cry
From inside a tower of stone.
I thought I heard Eriu sing
From inside a tower of light.
Were both of these just imaginings of a fanciful mind?
Were they real in a time locked world
Or dreams of a land where none wake or sleep?
We know in another place,
Other times will be,
And towers of stone and light
Are just ripples in eternity.

 

Fodla

Drunk with cherished desire. Anguished. Cold. Powerful cold. Driving snow cutting into her skin as if she were a pin cushion. Tangled branches tear at her clothes. Twigs catch in her hair. Clambering through the encircling web of bushes, she must persist in her journey. Fodla surrounds the centre. Touching the land in eternity. Through Winter and Summer. Through snow, ice and skin searing winds, through overwhelming heat of high sun, through all the seasons and all the hazards, Fodla survives her tour.

Time passes. Fodla knows only change. Change is timeless.

Fodla, Goddess of the Divisions, Goddess of the many parts of Time and Space. She walks in a land of divergence. Enfolded in her skirts the whole converges. For in the separation is the coming together.

Pity overwhelms her. She stops. Once she walked in beauty, through beauty, over beauty. Will she ever move again? Compassion for the truth arises through the delusions of the nightmare. Blood and tears well from her body. She is lonely. Everyone thinks she is strong but she is not. She does what she has to do. She listens to people and shares in their disconnections. Offers reconciliation for their diversity. Who listens to her wisdom now?

Fodla, her beauty never fading, her love unending. Waiting in eternity for them.

Eriu

Howling sadness cried out as, abandoned, the mother turned away, rejected by the child she had nurtured for so many aeons. She fed her children unconditionally, abundance in kine and kin she shared with her offspring. Yet they started to demand of her more. Expected her gifts to increase with no limit. They devoured her and brought her to poverty and ruin. And they returned nothing.

In her death the wife of the sun retreated into the mounds. Throughout the whole of the realm, Eriu, Goddess of the Centre, Goddess of Earth, Goddess of Light, withdrew into darkness.

Earth Mother, Cosmic Mother, centre of all, lay in her funeral place, in her coffin, buried amongst the moles and worms, amongst stones and minerals. Amongst the bones of all ancestors, amongst the remains of primordial earth. Motionless she dreamed of flowery pastures where she played with her children. Now their footsteps reverberated through the roots of the grass, down into the roots of bushes and trees, down into the heart of Eriu. She knew that the birds still sang, the sun still shone and fields yielded their crops for harvesting and yet… she sighed in her death-life. Yes, she was alive. Even in her death, for her world is eternity. Why didn't her children understand this? Why didn't they call her forth?

Eriu, her beauty never fading, her love unending. Waiting in eternity for them.

A small group of friends joined hands and invoked Fodla and Eriu. Lights shone, fires flickered and warmth tempted Fodla and Eriu forward. They hear the faint call. Stiff, deaf from not hearing anyone speaking their names for so long, they falter in their eternal death-life. Would they call again? Could Fodla and Eriu trust the call? Was it a trick? They heard the call again. But they are wounded. They need time to awaken, to heal, to open again the windows to their children.

Fodla and Eriu are returning through the overlaying centuries of rejection. Their hearts cry out – ‘Yes. We hear you.’ ‘We never failed you – do not fail us now, Our children who call us. You know about life but you do not know about death, the rituals of death, the requirements of death.’ Fodla and Eriu, long to hear the call again, to start again.

A small group on a green hill speak their names. Fodla and Eriu smile and answer. No uncertainty now. Lights shine, fires flicker and warmth tempts Fodla and Eriu forward, through the frustrations of the undergrowth, through the overlaying centuries of rejection. They awaken and the ground quickens.

Page last updated: 12th Jan 2011