I was born in a will o’ the wisp

came like a twist of the wise to rouse and sunder.
I am the seer you keep at bay, the shadow over your eye.
My might is my slightness, my strength is my veil
the way I catch your wish for the real
with my curling truth on your fingers and toes, in the whorl of your ear –
the conjure of honour, the vision of tribute, I'm there.
They think we're a light that breeds in the ghosting field
to darken the tree-held night
but we're not, we're a smoulder, ash with a centre of roar,
we bide our time while you grow in debt and get older.

When they gather in halls that are named for the money
and they call for our end and muster an army
against what might happen if they upped and entered us
then we are scared –
especially of the dismantlers, they do it so well,
so fast it's the trick of conjuring nil; you don't see what is gone
Was there nothing there?

When one of you names us and knows our intention
we draw you into our inkling lair, the other dimension
and we sing together the song of no nation
that will prink and spindle the future of wish
the future of wisp at the centre of will.

I was born in a will o’ the wisp
and I live here still.

Siobhan Campbell is an Irish poet, partly based in the UK. Her third book is 'Cross Talk' from Seren Press. Her work appears in anthologies such as 'New British and Irish Poets' from Bloodaxe. Siobhan recently won the Oxford Brookes International Poetry Prize and holds awards in the Troubadour and Templar competitions. Her poems have appeared in journals including Poetry, The Hopkins Review, Crab Orchard Review, Magma, Agenda and Poetry Ireland.