It’s deep time here, this barrow grave five thousand years old,
where we follow like sheep behind the guide to the heart
of its cruciform center.
I’ve never been in a space so dark.
What was it like to fear that the sun would not return,
that crops would wither, deer flee,
that night’s dark cloak was all there was?
But miraculously, on the lip of the solstice,
the light returned, liquid and golden,
ran down the narrow corridor,
hit the back wall, splashed in the stone basin,
and they knew summer would come back, run to fruit.
Light, dark, freeze, thaw, seedtime,
harvest, wheel of the year, the spiral dance.
What would they make of our device-laden lives,
fossil-fueled cars, over-stocked larders?
Who stands in the dark and listens now, gaping at the stars?
— Barbara Crooker, “Newgrange” from The Book of Kells
Finnis Soutterain underground
There is nothing so dark as centuries-old underground tunnels and portal tombs, some positioned with an opening to capture a beam of light exactly at either the winter or summer solstice, illuminating what dwells in blackness the rest of the year.
The more recent ninth century soutterain tunnels were refuge for Christians hiding from invaders, keeping whole villages safe from capture.
The dolmens and portal graves are Neolithic structures built before the pyramids. They still exist today as they were constructed to last by people serious about their beliefs.Though those people are long dust, the stones and tunnels remain as they were, to protect the spirits of the departed.
What would they think now of our extravagance,
our plethora of goods and foods,
our ways of crippling others remotely
using weapons dropped from the sky,
but also the weapons of internet disinformation and hacking,
hallucinations and lies from artificial intelligence?
Our ways make stealing, pillaging, raping and enslaving strangers
seem so… messy.
We mustn’t fool ourselves. We are still messy.
We moderns are lost in our over-abundance of light year round, scarcely noting the calendar or the passing of the longest and shortest days.
I bow my head to the remarkable people of strength who have preceded us, who sought mightily to preserve the significance of a Light returning to penetrate their darkness.
Lyrics:
Daylight comes and nighttime goes, nighttime falls, day flies
Round and round the cycle goes,
we live and then we die and then we live and then we die.
The seasons of my life go round, the sunshine and the rain
The fallow and the fruitful days,
the joy and then the pain and then the joy and then the pain.
As light below, so light above, so light in all we see
The light is in the act of love, the light that sets us free,
yes, it’s the light that sets free.
Daylight comes…
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