The inspiration for this piece came from a comment made by my entangled friend.
OSTARA – Celtic Goddess of spring, associated with painted eggs and rabbits . Adapted by early Christians and repackaged as Easter
The moonlight swathe randomly picks
odd snow flakes like projector dust
while stark branches with frosted licks
quiver and sparkle in each wanton gust.
Darkness, both lack of light and good
define all that is here, all that is not.
The lost and forgotten live in the wood
amongst the splinters and living rot.
Pity not these creatures of almost shade
seen in the wake of the night bird’s flap
a darker patch flit of a remnant fade
for they seek pure souls to entrap.
They feed off our fears and belief
drinking like sweet wine our dreams
only thus do they feel small relief
from their silent tormenting screams
This place was once Ostara’s domain
and in winter she of spring would sleep
until it was the time to wake again
and from darkness the wood to keep.
But they sought from the modern world a safe haven
they the shadow folk whose stories are no longer told
led to Ostara’s wood by the wings of Odin’s raven
replacing spring’s rebirth with their eternal cold.
And so they cling to life these creatures of times past
here in the wood, stalking the unwary and the bold
yet lost wraiths and banshee cannot forever last
and soon comes the day when their last tale is told.