This poem was inspired by a modern performance of the Rite of Spring at the Lowry.
stole you from the grasping sky,
unleashed an unkindness of ravens,
a pack of coyotes, a tribe of monkeys
from deep in the earth’s navel:
tricksters to lurk on the fringes,
steal food from the gods,
angle runes onto fresh gravestones,
to chase you to the dancing ﬁelds
deep in the greenwood
where hope of love, of passion
lies in the gift of the dark lady
whose off-beat rituals of rival tribes
invoke ancestral memories
and the benefactions of wise men.
You are the chosen one in this mystic circle.
Yours is the gloriﬁcation with drum and dance.
Yours the full voice of sacriﬁce.