Where is the spirit now?

Wandering and lost

Where is the spirit now
where the essence of simple beliefs
why the loss of inner light
in darkness without
why is Nature forgotten
discarded in favour
of fervour and lists of desires
fuelled by greed
when will we take 
the chance to pause and reflect 
why do I feel bereft?

Where is the spirit now
why has Yule been transplanted
a facsimile of something ethereal and visceral
once vital, once revered, once respected 
why the rush to places where faces become numbers
cellophane-wrapped bodies alone in a crowd
burdened by demands
and wallets found wanting
and expectations of visits
and nose-to-tail traffic
no joy to be found
why the veneer?

Where is the spirit now
where is the peace
I yearn to retreat into solitude's embrace
sitting in the glow of a fire well-lit
time to hibernate
I need to pause
take a breath
not chase good cheer
let me light a candle
and nurture my soul
close the book 
and mourn the turning of one more year
why am I lost?

Where is the spirit now?
Where are we?

---

This poem is written in response to a poetry prompt to write about the holidays (any holiday, not just the holidays that take place at the back end of the calendar year).

I was somewhat inspired by an anonymous Old English poem called The Wanderer, where the narrator, having lost his lord and his family, faces a hostile world alone. One part of the poem that haunts me, and which came out in my poem, was this section:

Hwær cwom mearg?
Hwær cwom mago?
Hwær cwom maþþumgyfa?
Hwær cwom symbla gesetu? 
Hwær sindon seledreamas?
Eala beorht bune!
Eala byrnwiga!
Eala þeodnes þrym!
Hu seo þrag gewat,
genap under nihthelm,
swa heo no wære.

Where is the horse gone?
Where the rider?
Where the giver of treasure?
Where are the seats at the feast?
Where are the revels in the hall?
Alas for the bright cup!
Alas for the mailed warrior!
Alas for the splendour of the prince!
How that time has passed away,
dark under the cover of night,
as if it had never been!

---

Alas, indeed.