If the grey hairs of your beard instruct you,
O Ilu,
As crumbling clay tablets say,
Then you are wise indeed.
Your silver hairs number
The countless silver stars in
The robes of a Tyrian purple sky,
The gritty grains of sand and stone
Upon the shores of the
Cerulean Mediterranean
Where your lady, Athirat,
Spins her endless crisp linen thread,
And the drops of clear cool water
Burbling and spraying
At the source of two springs
Where you live.
Your wisdom is as tangible
And as close to us
As a dream remembered.

[For eleven years, Tess Dawson has devoted herself to Natib Qadish, Canaanite Paganism. Tess’s book, Whisper of Stone: Natib Qadish, Modern Canaanite Religion (O Books) was published in July 2009. Feel free to visit her website or email her.]

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