i hear a kulning,
there—atop the mountain
shrouded in mist … elusive,
catching light within the dark;
the ancient song
echoes across fields of hope,
answered by gentle bells, ringing in the distance.
I want to be carried upon the wind of sound that
leaves behind a ribbon of wonderful sorrow,
risen from the mouth of renewal
between breaths—
lips open, prepared for a new melody,
caught deep in the belly’s marrow
sucked out of pain,
brought into grace,
ready to sing you home.
*Kulning is a traditional, ancient Swedish way to herd animals, through song/voice. It’s an almost haunting, hypnotic type of singing or chanting that was typically (maybe only?) done by women.
Intuitively, I feel that it wasn’t just a way to call home the animals, but to call our spirits, our souls back home to us. To call in the spirit of the land, the spirit of the animals who provide life.
You can listen to kulning by going to @jonnajinton‘s page.
This was an intuitive poem I wrote, last year, when within myself, I heard a distant kulning … a distant calling, bringing me back home…