First Mother Wraith
© Surazeus
2026 09 02

If we once gathered in September chill
in stone huts set inside mist-shrouded hill
to roast lamb on bright crackling flames of hope
while children play chase on vine-tangled slope,
then we may cherish memories of those years
in distant lands with nothing but cold tears.

Great glen that splits our land with shining lake
conceals sweet memories we long to take
when we sail wood ships over storm-wracked sea
to build new garden in Land of the Free
since men with guns drive us into dark gloom
that shrouds our hearts with curse of bitter doom.

Winds toss our frail ship on huge mindless waves
which hurl us from wrecked ships to bone-filled caves
where Death inspires our hearts with brave respect
to seek weird truth in jewels eyes inspect
with flash that guides us to the Promised Land
where we build new empire with honest hand.

When each new child is born from womb of fate
I stand with cloth of cheese beside the gate
as gift for hungry worker passing by
whose grace will bless our child with star-clear eye
to spread good fortune from my aching heart
when I map Heaven on our history chart.

From treeless glens where purple thistles thrive
we journey through dark wilderness with drive
for freedom far from gangs of castle thieves,
yet linger lost in mountain vales where leaves
still whisper names of souls we bury here
among gold flowers by the glistening mere.

Two hundred years swirl by in flashing clouds
that soon erase all tales of ancient gods,
so I wake in new world of phones and cars
which reprograms constellations of stars
till Scotia beams from visions of my dream
whose face I see in shimmer of the stream.

While strolling along moon-lit creek of faith,
I see emerge from mist First Mother Wraith
who guides my heart in lush Seattle woods
and gives me symbols of ancestral goods
so I see Scotland mirrored in landscape
that molds old spirit in my mortal shape.

Though hills of Scotland, shining in green rain,
call me to fly home on quick wings of gain,
I linger in lush Appalachian vales
to play guitar and recite timeless tales
depicting noble spirit of mankind
that drives our hearts with love star god designed.

surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/…

Orpheus flies to Scotland where he climbs to rugged glen where his ancestors had lived 200 years before, herding sheep in the swirling mist of faith.

#Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism