The ancient one

Arrows tipped with poison
Horses, inhalation
Death becomes an immediacy
And after life sensation
Cows and Deers and we ourselves
Can ‘t realise the lure
The toxic combination
That will never be a cure

Carpenters use wood for coffins
Bark is red if struck it bleeds
It hardens fast and black of colour
Immortality on it feeds
Renewal and regeneration
The otherworld, the ancestors too
Within it’s heart a transformation
That is truly the blessed Yew

Ten different species
And all slow growing
Sacred to Hecate and the Crone
And aspects of the triple goddess
Death and the afterlife
Full blown

Many ancient country churchyards
Include yews and probably
They were planted before the church was
The Druids they could see

The great potential of hill or
A well,a sacred site maybe
Centuries of Druidic rites
Sacred groves and a legacy

Nodes and springs
And ancient magick
Encoded ogham energy
Other levels of existence
Brought about by the great tree

Death can never ever be final
It’s a transformation and we
Can learn a great deal from
The spirit
Beyond the material plain
The tree

A bringer of dreams
And underworld journeys
Dense and heavy an orange hue
A deep red core
And what of taxol
A cancer cure
One good and true

The Pacific Yew
Inhibits cell growth
And cell division
And certainly
Is very rare
And very potent
In the rarified air
Of mystery

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