Singing a Blessing

It was the Autumn Equinox.

We women, in a circle,

sang an Irish blessing.

One led us, playing a harp.

May the road rise to meet you.

I sang in silent tears, remembering

times I'd used those words before

as prayers of farewell for men I'd loved

(more than one and all loved true).

May the wind be always at your back.

But that was long ago. Instead

two grown children came to mind –

one son, one grandson, cut from my life.  

The men they are I do not trust or like.

May the sun shine warm upon your face.

I will not see or speak to them again,

and yet I love. I chose at last to send 

to them too this blessing; these prayers  

they cannot hear. My tears increased.

May the rain fall softly at your feet.

And then I turned from pain to happiness:

a man I met once, in another country, 

a love that could not be, which we made lasting

friendship (easier with an ocean in between).

And until we meet again ...

I know now that we shall not meet again

in this life, but we're past grief or longing –

in this life did it right. We never said farewell, 

no need. I sing, in happy tears, a wish for him:

May God hold you in the hollow of Her hand.

Notes:

Re last line – It was a Goddess Circle. We understand God as having more than one aspect / expression / form / gender, and in this instance we chose to say 'Her' rather than 'His'.

I know the line about the rain is wrong – should be 'on your fields', not 'at your feet' – but that's how I heard and sang it on the day.