Bealtaine
Danu and Bile, the Gardens and the Rivers
Into Tuatha De Danann dreaming. We emerged into Tuatha De Danann waking. And we were glad. We were living again in ancient Ireland. Danu, her breasts plenteous, was our Goddess. Dien Cecht was our physician. And the path to Connla’s well was open. No religion could hold her. No cult could claim her.
THe Paps they are called. The Paps of Danu. From of old, Danu was called Mother of the Irish Gods. And that’s saying something.
John Moriarty - from ‘Dreamtime’
The John Moriarty Festival is on in Kerry in Moyvane. 21-23rd June.
Standing barefoot and naked in the streambed between her breasts, Dian Cecht, the medicine man of her people, presented me to Danú. He gave me three rosaries of rowan berries, two of her Hindu breasts, one of her Hindu yoni. - John Moriarty, Dreamtime
Danú
I
Bile, God of the Underworld
Arrived on the island of Eriú.
Fed he was by Danú,
While ghosts groaned across the land-
Lost, homeless, wandering.
Until Bealtaine Bile chased their souls.
Turning into an oak on the western seas
With a stairway out of it for souls to leave.
To honour Danú, to adore Danú.
II
We scattered with her away to India
Where they sang hymns to her in the Rig Veda.
On her way back west she gave her name
To the Rivers Dniper, the Don and the Danube.
The Danube, Dniper and Don rivers flow out of Danú.
She leads us back from India,
On a raging cloud
To ériu.
Danú brought the tribes together into one:
The Tuatha De Danann.
The tribe of light,
The tribe of knowledge,
The tribe of wisdom.
III
Mother of a salmon god, was Danú.
Mother of Lugh,
Mother of Macha,
Mother of Morrigú.
All seeing, all wise in the Boyne,
All wise but blind,
Unseen in her many forms.
She leads us to battle with the Fir Bolg,
The men of bags from Greece,
She leads us to Victory.
And back again, as Anu,
Giver of wealth in Cattle,
Giver of sovereigns- Nuada, who lost his hand
In battle of Maigh Tuaradh.
Dian Cecht made a silver one,
Made him King again.
Danú was mother of Dian Cecht.
Mother of Mananan of the Great Seas,
Mother of Macha of the horses
Who cursed Ulster for its cruelty
Who tore back to the hidden lands
Under the cairns
Where Aengus lived, before he found Caer
Before they entwined as two swans forever.
Soft, round, giving Danú.
Unseen but in the land, on the land, under the land.
Eriú.
Unheard.
Mother of all.
© Siofra O’Donovan, 2023
Farewell, Substackers, for a time. I need a break. Happy Bealtaine, may all be well.
Many of the photos are taken by me in Kilmaccuragh on this Bealtaine. I had a beautiful day. This is where Charles Acton, the Irish Times music critic who was a close friend of my father’s, was brought up. It is now an Arbotoreum. (Can never spell that)
So I’ll add a little about his memoir which my father published for him with Kilbride Books in 1997. I can’t find a copy anywhere so I’ll post about his Biography published by Lilliput Press
Farewell, Substackers, for a time. I need a break. Happy Bealtaine, may all be well.
Testing, testing