The Green Man of Ffynnon Mair – sleeps

Ffynnon Mair is not hidden

from view, but facing Enlli.

Yet a visitor must approach

her down a rugged cliff edge

not made for humans passing by.

No casual tourist turns up here

for a sympathetic blessing. This

is a hard place appropriate for Mary.

The sea is caught on the rocks

beneath, thrown up in sunlight

refracted droplets held for a moment

before us, like memories, we see

a glimpse of them before they return.

Each new wave a fragment of the path

that brought us to her in between place.

Neither land nor sea, rock face nor shore line

salt nor fresh. We cannot stay long, for this

is neither the end of our journey

nor yet, the beginning of the next.

 

The Green Man, with the weight of the world upon

his bearded face. Sleeps. Unborn. Awaiting the moment

to arise from her salt fresh womb and we await his coming

to reconcile and heal the earth.