Featured Poem: Ancient Roads  

By Nancy Haskett
Modesto Branch

 

At Brú na Bóinne,

Neolithic people walked on ancient roads

through sacred Irish land

toward prehistoric passage graves

and ceremonial temples like Newgrange,

where grass grows atop a rounded mound,

over white quartz walls layered with earth and stone,

carved circles, spirals, chevrons, arcs;

created by a people older than the Pyramids and Stonehenge

who feared the loss of light in autumn’s abbreviated days,

this holy place keeps a secret all year long

until dawn of Winter Solstice

when the rising sun peeks in through a roofbox

aligned to capture the rays,

sends them to the inner chamber,

flooding the floor with light —

an annual miracle providing reassurance that the days,

once again,

will begin to lengthen

 

 

9 comments

  1. audrey mchugh says:

    I love to connect to the ancients though I rarely do in poetry.
    Thanks for doing that in a beautifully themed poem.

  2. Claire Massey says:

    We have this in common with the ancients–still uneasy with autumn darkness, still welcoming the winter solstice.
    Beautifully described.
    Claire Massey
    NLAPW Poetry Editor

Comments are closed.