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Freyja's Tears
magick in a world of wounds
Mar 1
•
Seán Pádraig O'Donoghue
18
5
3
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roimh an éirí
In the last days of winter, deep in separate caverns we each seek the root songs that sing us whole, and the memory of the constellations that draw the…
Feb 27
•
Seán Pádraig O'Donoghue
13
2
Bhí mé ag an gcarraig
Bhí mé ag an gcarraig. I was at the rock so long I began first to grow moss and then to turn grey and then to turn to stone. I was stone so long the…
Feb 25
•
Seán Pádraig O'Donoghue
18
1
2
Óengus sa Gheimhreadh
The old man I will become is begging me not to let him die alone. Staggering with bleeding feet, having lost the trail of white petals, I tried to fall…
Feb 25
•
Seán Pádraig O'Donoghue
26
3
3
Seeing the stars from the bottom of the well
words from Courting the Wild Queen
Feb 13
•
Seán Pádraig O'Donoghue
37
5
4
To My Mother at Imbolg
for Sandra Sack No reason remains at this late hour to hide from what your other eyes can see. Though your lips won't move and your breath begins to…
Feb 1
•
Seán Pádraig O'Donoghue
47
5
3
We Could Not Disappear
In the face of the unspeakable, we stopped speaking, forsaking the ability to summon each other and ourselves, and the responsibility to keep singing…
Jan 23
•
Seán Pádraig O'Donoghue
65
8
10
A few things I know about secret police
In my late twenties and early thirties, I saw police states at work in Colombia and Oaxaca.
Jan 14
•
Seán Pádraig O'Donoghue
44
10
14
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Seánfhocail
Perspectives of an animist herbalist, poet, and priest on things new and old, human and wild
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