séidh

by Clara McShane

I often believe that the Irish for blow – Séidh 

speaks softly to the fragrant song of the breeze.

Séidh hushes fondly each cluster of trees.

Blow is a ruler, a faux-God, a brute.

Voluminous, mighty and red – 

Wind does not blow each clover bed.

Wind is a spirited force, 

and blow is human, hollow to the wistful ear.

Wind cannot blow what it does not fear.

When mighty gusts sweep over craggy fields of gorse,

secrets of the sídhe are scattered over sheets of yellow glow.

Whispers of faeries too wilful to blow.

Off the coast of Malin Head, somewhere in the starry sea,

a piece of driftwood is shunted along by the gentle breath of the fish.

Bí ag séideadh, cairde airgid, bí ag séideadh anois.

Sídhe – a supernatural race in Celtic mythology (an older form of sí).

Bí ag séideadh, cairde airgid, bí ag séideadh anois. – “Blow, silver friends, blow now.”

Clara McShane is an emerging writer from Dublin with a BA in Psychology. She has been writing for most of her life, and finds a sense of peace and balance from engaging with poetry and prose. Her work has been published in The Caterpillar Magazine and Drawn to the Light Press.