If I could, I’d send you a llatai
in your captivity.
A key is not permitted.
I can’t send the air of my country
or a jar of rain that makes
my country infamous.
I send you a leaf
from a rowan tree -
beautiful for you to hold
in both hands.
In its veins a secret message
Criafolen, criaf -o- len.
A cry behind a veil.
And a song’s murmur
as you walk one day
towards her and gaze
from her branches
at the sky's unveiling gift of ‘awen.’
Note: Llatai - an old Welsh poetic device that accompanied a gift (of a horse, dove, or any object)
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