A wonderful Dathün took place last spring at Dechen Chöling. Intense and transformative. Jane left a poem for us, written at the kitchen door waiting for the shuttle… Here it is, published at last, after having been waiting for the new website to be online…
Thank you Jane!
Pascal
Dathun’s end: a fairytale of Limousin
No farewells for you; the lords and ladies long gone, their carriages departed
The drama all played out, the revels ended, the actors gone before
The matching greys you’d been eyeing up for weeks deep in pasture,
The fairy promise turned to ashes for Cinderella by the kitchen door
So what did you expect? A fanfare, or the sound of bells?
You wanted to be invisible, to move like smoke, leaving no trace
As if by reckless speed you could outrun a phantom
And at the end your wish is here, as insubstantial as empty space
Those fairy favours never worth the price: the deal is done, the prize is won
But unwary mortals wake to find the trophy tarnished, changed or simply fled
Those fickle fays indifferent now, occupied among the celandines
And still the debt to come; too late to say you were misled
So take a turn once more along the path that leads to nowhere
The plans for lilac time all botched and the violets over, luck gone astray.
But what remains? Something flickering round the margins
Drifting like smoke, like the mists on the lake, closer and then far away
The interface patchy at best, the connection always dropping, but in between
That sweet mood; waking in a strange place; the madcap joy, the over-revving heart;
Tears in the rain, the map in shreds at your feet; vivid in the morning
But shades of Verlaine by the afternoon; the hectic chance of each new start.
What is it that you seek? Some words unspoken, something understood?
A dream that’s just a chimera of the brightening air?
You searched in vain for what you could not take
That souvenir of love to prove that you were there.