Dreaming About The Celestial Mountain

The paths to the summit are bordered by small native trees. As the trees grow, their branches will arch across the paths, forming private green tunnels that wind around the hillside. In time, the sleeping face on the hilltop will be hidden from casual view, visible only when searched for.

Firstly you search for a fine young swift
With sickle-grey wings to slice the wind

A wing to sweep to the south when it snows
A wing to soar to the north when it blows

Three times approach and ask for a feather -
Three times tightly bind them together

One from the tail for direction
One from the right wing for strength
One from the left wing for stealth

Wait for a night when the new moon of
spring hangs in a cold grey sky

And the wind has dropped and veered from the west, then lower your head, uncover your breast.

Burn the feathers, walk through the smoke,
gather it round you to wear as a cloak
and hide yourself from your sorrows

A poem, inscribed on the steps leading to the path around the hill, describes the rituals required for a successful journey in the imagination.

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AGNES CONWAY

agnesdavey64@gmail.com

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