This poem really is three poems that relate to each other but come from different places. First, the Man of the Northern Wall was a mage and power behind the throne of a queen in a before time, much as Merlin was behind Arthur as King in the time of Camelot when Britain was not yet but Rome had retreated back across the Channel. That is the sense of the Magic. There are limits even at the best of times because the age of true magic is in the Golden Age of archetype, or the Dream Time of the Australian aborigines, or the before times of any cultures. In other words, full power magic was in the world prior to the world of history. Even the most powerful mage is limited in historical time. That is just true, no matter how a magician may strive for power.
Then there is Coyote, one of my favorite gods, almost not a god. He screws up far too often to really be a god. Often he is hilarious, sometimes stupid, sometimes brilliant. He has a kind but self centered heart but can be cruel, even mean his cruelty. In short he is as tangled up as we are.
Of course in classical myth Coyote is sort of a cross between Pan, Dionysus and Hermes and these three are definitely gods.
The last verse goes from a touchy task to the fact that we can all fall from high enough to hurt, and this at any time.
And I mean all this of course. There is something in me that is so arrogant that I think I can save the world. If saving the world is possible at all from our side of things then it is some kind of magic that does it. If it is saved from the other side, it is of course miracle that does it.
**This poem's introduction was modified and the picture added tonight**
If I were Magic
And Magic was as I dream
Then so much would change.
Coyote is the teacher,
Shows the corkscrew way of things.
To thread the needle
Takes courage, wit, hollow bones,
Or else you fall, break.
Written October 13, 2008 3:48 PM
First posted Saturday, December 27, 2008