Our Scientist, Hallowed be thy name! August 2, 2010

Are we happy now?

Now that the last of the fairies is dead?

Now that God and his angels quiver in heaven

and the vicars in black run from new priests in white?

Are you happy now?

No-one cared when they came for the dragons,

the unicorns, pixies and elves.

Nobody fought for the mermaids and goblins,

After all, we wanted to be free!

We would build our own heaven, not God’s,

and the men in white would defeat death on their own.

Why bother to love our neighbours as ourselves?

You couldn’t ring it up on the till!

But now that the men in white come for the meadows,

the ponds and the seas and the rainforests too.

Now that they smother the fields in tarmac

and choke all the skies with their carbon and fumes,

now that they tie us with ropes of their logic

and offer us Nike eternal,

are we happy now?

Are they happy now?

Sometimes, on the breeze, comes the music of fairies

and a faint curl of scent from a long extinct bloom.

Then, if just for a moment, I sense true happiness

and the scowls of the new priests in white.

.

Paul Hughes, 2010

The Fairies and the Butterfly September 8, 2008

Deep in Acorn Wood lived young Anna, who was good;
but sadly she was plain and deathly ill.
Her sister’s name was Jean. She was beautiful but mean,
and span (to earn a penny) with great skill.

Although she was so ill, Jean made Anna clean until
her aches, her pains and sadness made her weep.
Jean would treat her badly; she kicked and beat her madly.
Each night poor Anna cried herself to sleep.

Anna loved the flowers. Each day, for just an hour,
she breathed and shared their soft scent with the bees.
This summer was her last, for her strength was fading fast.
Her spirit would soon fly with autumn’s breeze.

Anna smelled a rose. Its sweet perfume pleased her nose.
she softly spoke: “My love, I share your doom!
Your petals will soon fall and I hear my own grave call.
But still I cry for you, my darling bloom!”

The flowers heard these words and within them fairies stirred.
They all agreed they could not let her die.
Her death would be too tragic so they used their ancient magic.
Dear Anna’s soul became a butterfly.

She flutters free from pain and she’s beautiful, not plain
She bathes in dew and feeds from petalled bowls.
Sitting right beside her spins an ugly, wicked, spider
The fairies changed Jean’s shape to fit her soul.

Spiders always sigh when they meet a butterfly.
They long to touch the beauty they can’t share.
Yet butterflies steer clear when they sense a spider near.
The sight of them is more than they can bear.

Paul Hughes 2008