Gargoyle 6
cover drawing by Zenon Slawinski
publication date 6/14/1977

"would Druids come to us"

Peter Neumeyer

Would Druids come to us
they would have aches
about the loins, about the heart.
"Build us a Stonehenge here,
a dolmen circle for the sun,"
would say a priest.
Mack trucks would come,
would bring the boulders to the public square
hard-hats would hoist them, one by one,
children would blink, would stand and stare
and grownups pass them by, obliviously,
mind bent on meat-press or the cutting board.
The circle set, the stones erect,
High priest would stand one solstice night,
not move a muscle in his twelve hour watch,
would wait the knife cut first sun ray
burn laser sharp through rock, to eye, to mind,
would see, through mists, a whorling vault,
an oak stump throne in thunder clouds,
burled, knotted with imperial glues
and massive roots to rest the glorious feet.
Over the throne would float a cloud
much darker, and more pregnant than the rest,
Withholding lightning barely for awhile
until the oak would take its regal guest,
(The eagle dips. The mistletoe,
;the swamp-reeds shiver.
The fisher darts, a loon will cry;
A cold wind sweeps the river.)

The oak stump stands. The Druids wait;
and lightning cracks through streaming clouds.
The wet begins to drizzle.
The hard-hats gone, the crowds pass on,
The priest waits like a heron;
His fellow saints are inward strung
as arrows in a bow.
Their forty wills are fused to bring
the sovereign to his throne.


A sparrow flies from night to night
The ice wind chills the bone.
The stump-roots knotted marvelous,
the rain now makes them shine,
The stump awaits the precious weight;
the earth is stopped in time,

The moment now is surely here
The priests stand rigid, stiff–
–and then the c1ouds pass by

The sky reflects a gentling light
The steaming stump will dry
Some foolish boulders block the way
that busy people go.
Some muttering folk incant a prayer with
ache in loin and heart.

The Druids pass, forever gone
and gray rocks mark the place
the sun is up, the day is here,
a cold wind stings the face.

This work first appeared in Gargoyle, issue #6. Please respect the fact that this material is copyrighted. It is made available here without charge for personal use only. It may not be stored, displayed, published, reproduced, or used for any other purpose without the express consent of the author or artist.