“Harmonie,” Henri Martin, WikiArt.

Part 3: New Creation (Last)

Startled awake by cool sea breeze, Mary asked,
“How long?” Afternoon had passed, I felt her
Stay near ending. Our descent from Celtic hill-
Fort, Holy Mother stopped at ocean clifftops,
My face she took in hands, forehead touching
Mine. “Muriel, sister in Christ, blessings I give
To you, healing sick of body and soul, in name
Of my son, such ills body leave.” Sunlight, cloud
Obscured, broke free, light beams illuminating,
Penetrating me, I fell to her feet, collapsed to
Ground, fires burning visceral-deep.

“What has happened?” I asked aloud, fearing
My womb conceived or fire scorched, child-
Birth now precluded. “Blessing you have
Received,” Mary advised, “as Christ’s disciples
Were so chosen, their souls, earth beneath
Them shaken, scripture papyri-recorded,
Discarded or time-lost.” Lo! Light welling
Within, I was no longer myself, new creation
I had become, rosary clutched to breast, my
Fears voiced: “Mother, I cannot do this alone.”
Nor would I, as months wore on, aided in
Spirit by Holy Mary and by my sister, Betrys,
Magic of pagan-druid sorceress.

Dinner in stone cottage, fruit, fish, honeyed
Bread, Holy Mother yearned for warmth of
Hearth fires, Ireland resting days sand-glass
Flowing. Thus, we talked of change as foretold,
Roman siege of Holy Lands and of Albion Isles,
Celtic-Druids their undoing. Alas! Within time
Oasis I was living, decades before religious
Strife, guidance Holy Mother: “Worship as
Your heart tells, Muriel, few gathered in his
Name, sacraments and miracles. Denounce
Hatred and violence. Serve humanity, and in
Doing so, serve Christ. This much you know.”

“The Muse,” Henry Martin, WikiArt.

Into late night we talked, prayers illuminated
By candle flame, communion of souls, and
Thus into sleep we slipped. Next morning,
Holy Mother was no more, my mind blurred
From day before, or had I dreamt this account
In single restless night? To hill-fort I ran,
Finding place amongst flowers where we talked,
All written of three days real. Amongst wind-
Waving flowers, Mary’s shawl I found. Upon
This holy site, stone monument I built from
Celtic fort walls, altar honouring Christian
Faith, this Mary visitation.

Celtic past in landmarks and Gaelic languages are part of Irish history. Roman
rule extended throughout 
the Mediterranean and into to British Isles, resulting in
bloody sieges with Celtic tribes and
Druids. This third and final poem reflects this
cultural relationship between emerging
Christianity and pagan religions in 700 AD Ireland. Thanks for reading this historical fiction. For more, see this link:

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