What if the Rainbow Hunters
Reached down to her,
There in the crevice of fresh water.
Wouldn’t their grass wrapped hands
And the children,
What if they stood by her
In the crevice of clear water.
Couldn’t their songs disguise her?
What about the crazy ones?
What if they ran in mixed up circles around her
There by the crevice of fresh water.
Wouldn’t their waggling red hairs
And the High Priest,
What if he were to return, fulfill the ancient legend,
There in the crevice of clear water.
Wouldn’t his centuries of prayers
From the wrath,
From the armed bow wrath.
From the arrow,
From the pinning arrow,
Of the warrior,
Of the sun.
from: Searches For Magic by PD Lyons, Belfast Lapwing, 2001,
ISBN 1 898472 59 9