Aengus Óg


A distant sense of Aengus Óg
No more than knowledge of this god
Is brought to bear upon my mind

And yet I hear a nearer sound:
A harp elusive on the wind
So close that I can hear the strings

Could it be for me they sing
Like birds in the early summer dawn
Or the sigh of wind through bending grasses,

Or do I merely hear what passes
On the breeze for others to perceive?
Perhaps, but then a listening ear

Is also there, a curious stare
Wondering who might be hovering
At the edges of the whispered speech

And so I wait a turn to speak
And, if invited, say my piece
As yet unsure how to approach this god.


  1. Snowhawke says:

    This poem is simply wonderful. Thank you for sharing your creativity. Doubt and uncertainty are great teachers, keeping us wakeful to the world, listening, patient. This is the foundation of good relationship, which you’ve expressed with eloquence. Thank you and many blessings.

  2. I love the way your masterful verse captures a threshold experience which is clear in its happening but also brings uncertainty and doubt with its irrevocable call from the beyond.

  3. crychydd says:

    Thanks both Snowhawke and Lorna for your responses here, in particular your appreciation of the exploratory nature of this verse as a response to perceived call.

  4. Does one hear? Does one not? Is that sound, whisper, echo, peep, shout someone/something/somebeing of importance whom I should/oughta/must attend to? The questions swirl and spin and yet there is the knowing of significant encounter waiting to manifest. I think you brought all that into focus in this poem.

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