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A Transparent Wisp of White

By Pat Gallinagh

That the Irish are superstitious, of this there's no debate
Sure the Leprechaun and pot of gold are almost articles of faith
A rabbit's foot will bring good luck, a broken mirror, seven years of bad
And nowhere in the land of Celts can a doubter's word be had.
Most myths seem quite harmless but others fill the soul with dread
Like "a weasel purse is never empty or a crow flying over means death" it's said
But of all the mystic creatures, the one the Irish fear the most
Is the howling Banshee which means one's about to give up the ghost
The Banshee is a relic from Ireland's ancient pagan past
Nor has centuries of Christianity could out the concept cast
No amount or rationality could totally dispel
The fear of the unknown which in every heart does dwell
For deep within the human psyche, there's a dark place in the mind
So dense in fact that even reason's brightest cannot quite find
It craves an explanation for the forces which science cannot give
And it fashions deities and demons who hold sway over how we live

The legend says the Banshee is most attendant to ancient Irish names
Like those that start with "Mac' or "O" and have a history of fateful claims
Such as the O'Neill or McDonnell clans whose fortunes rose and then declined
Her mournful cries still laments the fall of the Gael's chieftains now enshrined
Many other cultures have their harbingers of death
But only the Celts claim the Banshee will be there for one's last breath
Her plaintiff cry sounds like the wind that whistles thru the long dark night
And on rare occasion the apparition might a person sight
Those who claim to have seen her say she's like a transparent wisp of white
With long and flowing hair and a face which conjures waves of fright
They trembled when they spied her and crossed themselves and prayed
That whoever she had come for and hoped their soul in heaven stayed.
But the Banshee is just a fairy and can be dispatched with just a wink
And spirits are like shadows that the light chases with just a blink
The little people might be mischievous but they really do no harm
So believing in them cannot hurt no more than carrying a lucky charm

So if the Irish seem more prone then most to believe in spirits and the stars
Who's to say that they're not right than those who worship math and Petri jars
For surely no one could deny that the Irish have had their share of luck
Both good and bad, tho some might say twas the hand of Fate that struck
So if believing in the Netherworld is just another Irish trait
It only adds to their charisma which has been gaining much of late
So should you find a penny this much we know for sure is true
You'll be a penny richer and perhaps good fortune may find it's way to you

Author's Note

The inspiration for this effort came primarily from two sources. One was an article written by JJ Tohill called "The O'Neil Banshee" which appeared in the Nov. 9th, 2007 issue of Ireland's Own. The other was an article by Bridget Haggerty called "God Between US and All Harm" - Irish Superstitions taken from Irish Culture and Customs wed site.
If there are any errors or inaccuracies, blame them on the "little people."

©Pat Gallinagh, February 2008

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