Lughnasadh Poem
Lughnasadh
The scythe is laid to rest
Now hands beat on chest
As all gather to prove
They are the best
The pride, the joy, the champion
The hero, the one, the winner
In each and every new contest.
Each struggle is met with smiles
Tug of war, rock tossing, wrestling
Fleet footed races through ditches and bogs
Peaty feet slipping and caked in
History.
We fly kites, and hunt treasure
20 questions, buzzing with pleasure
Simple joys, still competing
But no conflict. Competition
Without war.
Just, as we think, Lugh’s mother Tailtiu
Would have wanted.
After all, that’s who he made
Lughnasadh for.
***
About the Author:
Mabh Savage is a Pagan author, poet and musician, as well as a freelance journalist.
She is the author of A Modern Celt: Seeking the Ancestors and Pagan Portals – Celtic Witchcraft: Modern Witchcraft Meets Celtic Ways.
