Questions for the Cailleach: A Poem by Benn

I stood among fallen trees
Broken like dry blades of grass
By the winds of high mountains
By the roaring dance of the Cailleach

There is no place to shelter when She comes
When the scythe of Her falls
And the Truth Against the World
Sets the body to flaming
The mind to trembling
And the heart to breaking open

So I said to the Oldest Grandmother,
"Plunging in death?
Soaring in release?
I see before me clouds of ravens,
Red-beaked.
I see above me fields of snow,
Cold like old bone.
Oldest of the Old!
You pour too much in my cup!"

And softly
From snow blowing distantly off cold peaks
She sang,

"Life's long harvest
Becomes final moments choice,

Will you be surprised with inevitability?
Or will you die with Cu Chulainn?
Your spirit standing with stone.

Will you forget,
And think you are alone?
Or will you let Grey Macha be your ward?
Gnashing and trampling the fears arrayed against you.

Will you,
At the last,
Refuse my Truth?
Or will hooded Morrigan be your winged guide?
Clothed as the black raven of long memory.

Will you be buried beneath the sods of worry?
Or will you let the hero light shine from your brow?
And watch as Conall rides,
For you . . ."

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