“Druidess,” Alexandre Cabanel, Wikipedia.

We were always Celtic island people,
Raw edge of sea and wind, place with
No beginning, no end, ring of standing
Stones, words and symbols inscribed,
After deciphering, conversely, circular
Forces knowing me, realization, I was
Existing on plane mortals understood,
Sea-faring beating hearts, earth on axis
Turning, constraints of time, sunrises,
Sunsets, days and months, dissolving
Into decades. As mother said, “Hug
The stones, Ryntha, it’s not wind felt,
But time swirling all around.”

“What is it, Ryntha?” my family asked,
Returning to thatched-roof dwelling,
My mind still enchanted. Visions of
Past lives, sweeping by in radiant light,
Father, mother, daughters, sons, role-
Reversed souls, after death, clinging to
Each other as stone gods permitted.
Like rising sun, dawn’s first light, ring
Purpose recognized, means of undoing
Wrongs. Secrets of Druid faith unrevealed,
Secrecy concealed, stone rings upturned
Star-crossed fates: accidents, illness,
Resurrecting battle and sea-killed.

Standing stones were mind-addicting,
Power it possessed, marveled in sea
Mist, time stretched or collapsed on my
Command. How far would I ventured, to
Beginning or to end? Like child in wheat
Fields running, when farm cottage sliped
From view, I turned around, my path
Followed to familiar sights and sounds.
Yet, I remained affected, dreams not my
Own, voices, faces, beyond earth-time
Horizons, haunted sleep. Secrets offered
For blood loyalty, obedience, knowledge
Deific voices could bestow.

“Callanish Standing Stones,” Outer Hebrides, Marta Gutowska, Wikipedia.

“Behold, Druidess Ryntha, earth is mother
To all,” chorus in unison sang. O! Blinding
Light, time tumbling down!  Quaking-earth
Prowess, molten mountains sea-lifting, fiery
Smoke belching, islands forming, upon
Rocky shelf life began, ocean-wind breath,
Surf crashing, only strong-willed peoples
Remained on arduous course, migrating
Across ancient Gaul, ship-building, oaring,
Sailing, claiming outer isles. Lo! Standing
Stones our connection to earth, held fast-
Deep, I embrace grain as bone exposed.
By her magic, moments I can endure, I see as
Holy Mother, wisdom veiled behind her eyes,
Time passing, clouds scudding overhead.

Ancients related oral histories from darkest ages, mysteries probable and
improbable, poetic fragments, validity unknown, yet more the appealing.
Thanks for reading.   

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