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This poem evokes memories of the day following the summer solstice celebrations, inviting us to celebrate the present.

Aurore

Et si c’était la dernière fois que je devais voir l’aurore.
L’aurore jouant derrière la colline, sa robe rose découpée par le roc.
Je cueillerais la rosée et sentirais le dernier feu de la Saint-Jean à la clarté naissante.
Je marcherais et la terre résonnerait en moi tel un coeur qui bat.
Et si c’était, et si c’était … la première fois.

Dawn

What if it would be the last time that I could see the dawn.
Dawn, playing behind the hills, her pink dress cut out by the rock.
I would pick dew and smell the last Saint John’s fire at the awakening morning light.
I would walk and the earth would resonate in me like a beating heart.
If it would be like that,
it would be…
like the first time.

About the Author:
Hélène Courrier, PhD is a visual storyteller and content creator from The Netherlands.

‘Both of my parents come from Lorraine (north-eastern France). As a small child, I had the luck to spend an unforgettable time by the source of the river Meuse, in the tiny village of Lorraine that now perhaps counts 100 souls. In the magical garden of my humble great-grandmother, I lived the oneness of Life.

The village life was alternated with dominical reunions and seasonal celebrations. Finding water sources, measuring the energy of a place, chasing away the fire of a burn wound, making warts disappear, this traditional knowledge was all transmitted in Lorraine.

I remember one of these summer celebrations “la Saint-Jean”, when all the village gathered around a fire and ate, drank, and laughed. This tradition is nowadays lost in this old village, but it is still in my heart, and this poetry is the legacy of the day following the summer celebration inviting us to celebrate the present.

To revive this tradition, I now celebrate the summer solstice with my family with a walk in nature and gathering around a fire. I hope that my children will do the same’.

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