The Mabinogi is a collection of old Welsh stories compiled form oral tradition in the 11th century. The work has four volumes, or “branches,” as they are known. In the Fourth Branch resides a dramatic tale of a woman called Blodeuwedd. She was magically created from flowers to satisfy the desires of a king. It’s a complicated story filled with political intrigue, magic, mayhem, and murder.
Blodeuedd (a name which literally translates as “Flower Face”) was a woman with no past and no future. She was utterly controlled by men who gave no thought to her own wishes and needs. And she was not happy. So when circumstances (or perhaps a goddess behind the scenes) conspired to entice Blodeuwedd with a handsome lover, she of the flowers grabbed that chance. But it wasn’t long before she was punished for her audacity. The same magician who birthed her with his magic transformed her into an owl – Blodeuwedd – and banished her to an eternity without daylight or love.
But.
This turned out to be a blessed release. As Blodeuwedd the Owl, the hunted became the hunter. And the hunter became a goddess in control of her own world at last.
As I studied Blodeuedd/Blodeuwedd’s story, I couldn’t help but think of all the women and girls through the ages, and to this very day, trapped in a world of a man’s making. So for them – the abused, the bought and sold, the powerless – I wrote this song.
∞∞∞
THE OWL DANCE (BLODEUWEDD'S WALTZ)
Words, music, vocals, harmonium by Diane Laura Rains. Hammered dulcimer, concertina by Stu Janis.
Copyright © 2018 by Diane Laura Rains All Rights Reserved.
∞∞∞LYRICS∞∞∞
There’s a girl with a rose in her hand,
and a tower of curls on her head.
Her cheeks smeared with rouge are like blood stains,
and her lips an unnatural red.
She’s waiting for something she can’t understand,
for she’s young, and she’s new to this game.
So she sits in the park and watches the sky,
and she doesn’t remember her name.
The owl flies through forests in silence,
for her wings bear the secrets of air.
She exists between nothing and all things,
where the rules of the hunt are seldom fair.
And all that she’s ever wanted
is to bloom with the flowers in Spring.
But they took her and gave her talons,
and they made her cold Death on the wing.
(chorus):
The Owl Dance is eternal —
hunter and hunted, talon and wing.
And maybe it’s better to fly in the dark
than to wither in daylight and never bloom in Spring.
Blodeuedd was only a wife —
just a bridal gift wrapped in flowers.
In a shower of blooms she appeared,
made by longing and magic powers.
She existed to serve at the whim
of her husband’s ambition and need.
But in all that was asked of Blodeuedd,
no one asked who she wanted to be.
Then one day the Goddess answered
a forgotten wife’s unspoken prayer.
The limbs of a lover fair melted her,
and he put a wild rose in her hair.
They could not abide their parting,
with her husband due home in the morn,
so together they hatched an improbable plan
to remove her unbearable thorn.
(chorus)
And the spear aimed true,
as Blodeuedd held her breath,
but her husband rose and flew
as an eagle, escaping his death.
Then oh, her remorse and her grief,
as Blodeuedd lost all that she’d won.
She was cursed for a day and a lifetime
to never have love or see the sun.
But remade in the form of a night bird,
no longer a creature of earth,
in exile Blodeuwedd learned power,
and finally found her true worth.
So to all of the young girls who wait
for their turn in a desperate game,
and to all of the women who hide
in their anger, and fear, and shame:
Remember that wings can grow in the dark
from hope that refuses to die.
Stand up, say your name, become the owl,
and gather the strength to fly!
(chorus)
