VERSES FROM “SEASONS OF THE SOUL” BY JOHN M JOHANSEN
VERSES FROM “SEASONS OF THE SOUL” BY JOHN M JOHANSEN
SUMMER SOLSTICE AT STONEHENGE
from “Buildings of the Season” © John M Johansen
At early dawn we follow the ancient leys of Salisbury plain.
We find our way not by sight, as they are invisible,
but rather guided by emanating magnetic forces.
Their pulse intensifies as we approach our destination.
At last, the wraiths of night withdraw
revealing in dim light,
the majestic standing stones of Stonehenge.
We touch the surfaces of liken, fern and moss
of these great stone-capped megaliths as we pass into the circle.
These mighty shafts were moved some 4 millennia ago
from distant Wales and placed here they say by giants.
By giants indeed! Yet giants of high intelligence;
a priesthood of engineers, astronomers and architects as well.
These early Britons waited here each year for Sun
to reach alignment with headstone and with altar;
to mark the day when Sun, seen through mortal eyes, stood still.
From this, these agrarians set their year long calendar,
to order their lives, their cattle and crops in devoted husbandry,
to synchronize order on their Earth with that of a greater Cosmos.
For guidance they listened to the voices of their Gods.
Their god, the Sun, had risen this day to engage their
Earth Goddess in the most impassioned embrace of all the year.
This was the time to celebrate in their procreation.
Her bounteous new life in all its forms
they expressed in solemn ritual as well in antic joy.
We come upon this mark which man has made upon his Earth;
a mark expressed in three most disparate terms;
a feat of high technology; an unfailing solar timepiece;
a temple carpeted in emerald sods.
We join these early Britons in common faith at Stonehenge
where they dared to take the measure of their Gods.
WINTER SOLSTICE AT NEWGRANGE
from “Buildings of the Season” © John M Johansen
In darkness and in cold
uphill we grope toward the passage tomb
of the legendary Kings of Tara.
Still honored and celebrated there
as having lived and died and hopefully reborn
to another life unknown
yet surely in the company of gods.
Before the light of day, this mighty mound
is silhouette against a dawning sky.
We enter, compelled by unknown powers.
Through the passage, flanked by heroic upright stones
and spanned by a corbelled roof,
we move with trepidation and in awe.
Guided only by our sense of touch
our fingers trace, in Braille, curvilinear patterns
chiseled on stark surfaces;
symbols whose meaning five thousand years ago
are long since lost to us.
Deep in that great mound of Earth
we reach the chamber of the dead.
There we wait in dark and deathly silence
for the moment; for Nature 's great performance to unfold.
The moment now has come.
Our breath is short; our pulse is quick;
in space and time suspended.
for along the passage floor we've trod
a straight, sharp beam of light injects itself;
piercing, full depth of passage
to strike the altar stone
in that innermost chamber.
The chamber now is a flood of light.
Those of Tara witnessed this and saw the sun,
as masculine generator of life;
penetrating this vaginal passage
to touch Gaia 's uterine altar
in immaculate conception.
Encased within that rock bound womb,
for a moment we are seeds awakened
to further germination to another life as well.
Released from this birth passage
we emerge to our mundane life.
Yet now we look upon it differently
reborn we are with clear insight.
As for the legendary Kings of Tara
who sought rebirth from death,
there may be for us, the living, rebirth within while here.
At Winter Solstice, may we join
our humankind, of five thousand years ago,
in that eternal act of faith:
that for each year, each life, our Earth, their purpose not in vain,
there will be a death for each in time
yet will be life again.
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THE HORREOS AT AUTUMN EQUINOX
from “Buildings of the Season” © John M Johansen
Like citadels, the "horreos" of old Iberia
stand guard over the fields of corn below.
These are granaries, which by their timely function,
are symbolic of the Autumn Equinox.
Built with chiseled joint of heavy quarried granite,
proof against rodent, fire and rain;
built not for the season but for seasons in all of time.
Built to protect that precious staff of life.
For these people, corn meant kernels of a plant they tended.
Yet for them, as well, meant Divine dispensation:
a gift of grace for which no payment was exacted,
only what they gave as faith in an unknown providence.
In stately rows, "horreos", styled as chapels,
offering space, not for worship within,
but for sanctuary of ingredients for a sacred bread
to sustain 'till spring, their bodies - as well as their souls.
SPRING - THE VERNAL EQUINOX
from “Buildings of the Season” © John M Johansen
In the company of all that grows this spring
I grow my house!
With curiosity, man has always witnessed Nature
in this, her secret process.
Now man, in Nature’s process can take part.
I place a “seed,” a coded D.N.A.;
blueprints for what my house will be.
Planted, as in earth, the roots will reach
to nourishment for molecular growth,
as they replicate and vastly multiply.
A vascular system distributes up as well
through stalks and trunk - my columns;
to branch and rib - my structure and support,
into living membranes - my canopy and roof.
Will I live within my living house, in symbiotic peace?
I may live there with troubled soul
for I have intervened in Nature’s secret ways.
Again, I may find peace, if I design with spirit
yet not “outdo the modesty of Nature.”
And so I will partner in the glory of this spring.