The Cradle of Daron


Palms open to carry
the earth song of seedlings
reach toward the sun
to summon light to bless
infant oak soon to be
cradled in the soft loam
of Daron’s breast.

Women of the wild have
left their song of mourning
to lift their voices to sing
of spring wind, rain, and
limbs to nest wing and feather.

In the dust bowl of war
women rise in peace to bring
hope from acorns that don’t
build walls or weapons, but
root to grow shade for communion.

Tree Sisters hear the womb cry
of ashes and plant dreams
of trunk and limb in faith what
man has scorched will be
resurrected in breathing forests.


©Susie Clevenger 2018

Oak

The oak tree features prominently in many Celtic cultures. The ancient geographer Strabo (1st century AD) reported that the important sacred grove and meeting-place of the Galatian Celts of Asia Minor, Drunemeton, was filled with oaks. In an often-cited passage from Historia Naturalis (1st century AD), Pliny the Elder describes a festival on the sixth day of the moon where the druids climbed an oak tree, cut a bough of mistletoe, and sacrificed two white bulls as part of a fertility rite. Britons under Roman occupation worshipped a goddess of the oak tree, Daron, whose name is commemorated in a rivulet in Gwynedd

Comments

Jae Rose said…
A powerful and atmospheric poem - brilliant!
Kerry O'Connor said…
In the dust bowl of war
women rise in peace to bring
hope from acorns that don’t
build walls or weapons..

I love the affirmation in your message, Susie.
Jim said…
Beautiful, Susie. Since men and women were created it has been women's role to restore the messes ambitious and sometimes careless or ruthless men have made. An aside, that is such a rich and fertile looking neck piece. I hope it is yours.
..
Carrie Van Horn said…
A lovely ode' to trees and the tree sisters. I especially love the 3rd stanza.
brudberg said…
I love the thought of embracing the heart of the oak... let the acorns rule.
Sherry Blue Sky said…
Susie, how lovely to see you in the pantry. I have been without internet for a bit and am glad not to have missed this poem at Toads.it is so beautiful. I especially love the hope in your closing lines and those breathing forests.
R.K. Garon said…
Well written and enjoyed.
ZQ
kaykuala said…
women rise in peace to bring
hope from acorns that don’t
build walls or weapons

That women should be expected to right wrongs left carelessly by men is a pity. Unproductive efforts in many instances!

Hank
Wendy Bourke said…
Beautiful! A mesmerizing intermingling of woman and nature ... of birth and rebirth ... and of peace ... rendered in stunning images. Brilliant writing.
Thotpurge said…
The idea of the women across the world rising in peace is so beautiful... perhaps it is time.
Sanaa Rizvi said…
In the dust bowl of war
women rise in peace to bring
hope from acorns that don’t
build walls or weapons

This stanza alone is incredibly potent all on its own!!
This reminds me of the "Tree Sisters' – women all over the world who are committed to planting all the trees we need, where we need them.
Mary said…
We need to unite together with the Tree Sisters, rise in peace, bringing hope!
I, too, particularly love the third stanza. Let's hope we can build bridges and rise to peace rather than build walls and more weapons. A timely poem! Thank you for visiting my new blog, Magic of Words. 😊
dsnake1 said…
excellent poem.
i think this is not just a poem about "from little acorns do mighty oaks grow", but also a song of hope for this Earth.
talking about trees, we do not have the oak here, and one of the largest and most common tree is the rain tree, which provide us with plenty of shade in these tropics. :)

Bekkie Sanchez said…
Just beautiful, Susie!
Margaret said…
Powerful last two paragraphs! Beautiful.