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Post by Dunstan Attard on Jun 12, 2007 23:58:09 GMT -5
This morning the spirit took me to Dodona in Epirus northwestern Greece, to a prehistoric oracle devoted to Zeus and the Mother Goddess called Dione which I visited some ten years ago. The shrine to Dodona is the oldest Hellenic oracle, perhaps dating as early as the second millenium BCE. Priests and priestesses in the sacred grove interpreted the rustling of the oak (or beech) leaves to determine the correct actions to be taken.
I know where the land is; Golden sand In the palm of my hand
I know where the land is Where cattle-bells echo Among mountains of constant beginnings Where words float through the valley of faith Where poppies bloom when their season mellows Where the harvest lies safely in the souls of my fathers
I know where the land is: It is somewhere in between a monsoon and a swell
I may go there some day
Yet today I will stay On the sea Drenched in her wintry perfume That is all that I want me to be
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Post by robertrwoods on Jun 20, 2007 11:14:07 GMT -5
Hi, Dunstan. This is the first poem of yours I've read. I like the subtle way you use language here. Very powerful, but gentle imagery. It's a very soothing poem. It reflects to me that desire to see the "afterlife" but without any hurry to leave the one your presently living. Sad and joyous at the same time.
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