When colours were a song

Sister, do you remember?

Moon was closer then

and made colours shining so true.

When spring was freed from winter’s den,

you could see through people too.

Sister do you remember ?

When colours were only a song

we had to chant to each other,

on evenings growing long.

Blue might appear in the sky never and again,

Red was met in the fire only,

Orange and yellow, hues of harvested grain

Pink on the nose of a baby

and green nowhere, oh how we missed you green!

And the tales we would tell along winter:

How deep you looked under a cloud,

How translucent under the sun’s shroud,

How potent in the Beltane forest shadow,

How dark in the rainbow...

Oh, each one of us adding her fantasy,

Come Imbolc you were just a taunting memory.

It is in those days, I seem to remember,

That you came to be for Hope, the fair colour.

Sister, do you remember? Moon was closer then,

No books, no paints, no papers, no dyes,

It was only naked skin and earth under the sky.

Colours lived as lived flowers and once gone

Keeping theem alive was the sacred calling of the soul.