Will-o’the-wisps
My great uncle was wise
in the ways of the woods
conducting our walks together
in right relationship with all that was
He gave me teachings
of this world and beyond
not all things are as they seem
although they are real enough
I learned to sit so still
that birds and other creatures
large and small and tiny
would assume I was the landscape
He taught me the lore
of the little people
their blessings and tricks
and not to look them in the eye
I learned about spirits
the shapes they might take
not to be afraid of the good ones
and how to interpret messages
One moonless night
as we watched the fireflies dance
I pointed politely with my chin
toward a floating orb over by the woodline
We held breathless still as another
joined it and then more in
glowing colours that had no names
courtly and sedate but not silent
They sang in a language I hadn’t learned
yet I understood their glimmerings
of things so ancient and eternal
I thought I had fallen into the sky
After awhile they flashed all at once
then disappeared as if they had never been
he sighed into a night
that was too quiet
It was then he told me
the Sight is given to few
and those who have it can
always see the will-o’-the-wisps
They had given me my gifts
knowing when a last journey is beginning
the touch for finding illness
a sense for what the healing may be
The years have passed
with them also my great uncle and
all my elders and more
I touch I heal I guide
I watch spirits rising from earthly limbs to the stars
walking the Milky Way in beauty
becoming that song I first knew
on the night of the will-o’the-wisps
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