Ann Egan; Fuamnach Rages Against Etain & Fuamnach Banishes Etain

Fuamnach Rages Against Etain

 

Etain has outdone me again.

After all the trouble I went to

getting that wind from the ocean,

to keep her on the move,

 

forever out of Midir’s life.

I was sure it had worked.

Worth all the price I’d paid

for magic of the wind’s force

 

to loan itself for my wishes.

Seven years’ peace I’ve had,

now it’s started up again.

Making her into a moth seemed a solution.

 

Who was to know her beauty,

blast it all, her sweetness would shine

through the garb of a good old moth

you’d barely see of an evening?

 

Shine through they did, enchanted

my Midir, all over again, even more

than her woman form and her style,

her bangles and her wiles.

 

She was rescued, of course,

after her seven years’ buffeting

from  rock to tree, beam to bush.

He gathered her in like an infant,

 

beneath his cape, brought her home,

there she dwells in a crystal bower.

He has all purple flowers he can muster,

about his house, he’s into gardening now,

 

His darling fly must be kept happy.

He goes out in dusk, gathers herbs

of her preferred fragrance at dew fall,

bears them home for her delectation.

 

What have I done to deserve all this?

The wind wrecks ships on oceans.

How could it not do the same

for me to one simple moth?

*

Fuamnach Banishes Etain

That’s the very last I’ll see of her,

There’ll be no torment after this for me.

I’ve lined up the best of help.

I’ll make sure my third attempt

 

to move Etain from my life won’t fail.

They’ll guide my every wish,

seven years of a moth’s banishment

will turn to a thousand.

 

Who could tell I’d get such bother

from a moth, one good clatter of a twig

would do for any amount of them.

I’ve had it up to my ears with her.

 

There’s no peace for me in Brí Leith

where I’ve loved to be for so long.

She changed all that turning up

that morning on Midir’s arm.

 

I thought I had all sorted,

with a good fire, a pool of water,

a worm and a fly, an incantation.

Instead it’s happening again.

 

I call upon earth and wind,

I call on three seers of the seas,

come to me in all your powers,

blow this moth of seven years

 

across hills and bogs,

mountains and meadows.

Let no peace fall upon her,

bear her far from Fuamnach of Brí Leith.

*

Biography

 

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