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There once was a fair girl whose name was Maureen,
who dwelt in the mists of the island ‘Vergreen.
She lived with her father.
Her hair was like copper.
She longed for a place that no human had seen.
An old woman told her when she was a child
a story about a great realm that’s outside
the edge of the borders,
the reach of the mortals,
a place where the gods and the spirits abide.
She went to that place every night in her sleep,
but the mists only fragments allowed her to keep.
Come daybreak the morrow
she hid in a hollow
and thought of the path that would take her to it.
She haunted the green bluff at dusk like a sprite,
with nothing but worn shoes to show for her plight.
She followed the sun path,
she searched in the twilight,
she sought by the moon and the stars of the night.
She fell for the spell of the slow dying light
which brings eyes to close and the body to halt.
She dozed on the seashore.
She woke in a clamor
of cawing and screeching and flapping about.
A raven had caught its right foot in a net,
and tightened it further because of the fret.
It flapped in a tizzy,
it circled till dizzy,
it cawed in despair for the fear of its death.
Maureen picked it gently and pet its black head,
and freed it from bondage and fed it her bread.
Its feathers turned steely
its secret revealing:
it turned to a goddess with dark hair instead.
She thanked the young woman for saving her life,
and asked her to name the one favor she’d like.
The girl didn’t dawdle;
she told her her struggle,
enchanted the raven will show her the path.
The goddess allowed her the dark road to see,
but warned her the place beyond life wasn’t free.
"They’ll think you’re departed.
They’ll harness your heartbeat.
They won’t let you back to the land by the sea!"
She taught her to hide her live heart somewhere near,
and go to the place beyond life without fear.
Her heart in a hard rock,
she traveled the dark path
to wondrous sights she had dreamed of for years.
She saw seas of cobalt and rivers of light,
and trees with gold leaves gleaming shimmery bright.
She danced with the fairies.
She ate their charmed berries.
They asked her to stay till the end of the night.
Come morning she couldn’t remember her life,
and had no desire to go back to the bluff.
She lived with the spirits,
she drank from their memories,
she listened to stories and lore in delight.
She stayed many years and befriended the fay,
in all ways abiding their rules and their ways.
She didn’t go back;
she even forgot
she’d left her heart gage at the edge of the bay.
She wedded the king of the fay whom she cherished,
and many fair children they had from their marriage,
with skin milky white,
and hair made of light,
who carried the stars and the moon in their carriage.
"Come back fair Maureen with your coppery hair!
Come back to the living, remember your share!"
She lived out her life
in blissful delight
forgetting the bluff and her life and her fare.
But one night the raven came visit her dreaming
and bid her return to the land of the living.
She followed the dark path,
she went to the hard rock,
but she couldn’t get her heart out of the thing.
She tried to dislodge it; she tried to rebuff
the promise that kept her heart safe on the bluff;
she felt it inside,
could hear through the side
the heartbeat that fused with the soul of the block.
"You silly girl thinking to swindle the fay!
How little you know of their rules and their way!
Your heart’s made of rock,
you can’t get it back.
You’re bound to a substance you can’t cast away."
She placed her stone heart back inside her as bid,
and tried to return to her dull human needs,
but she was dead eyed
and empty inside,
she’d left all her soul with her love and her kids.
She couldn’t go back while she was still alive,
she couldn’t stay there with a rock for a heart,
she was in a daze,
she waited for days
for her fairy husband to bring her soul back.
What good is a heart that is too hard to love?
What good is a living with no life inside?
She sneaked out at night,
she went to the bluff
and laid her stone heart on the beach at low tide.
The legend is hazy and vague after that.
Some say that she missed her betrothed and went back.
Some swear they could hear,
fhen fairies draw near,
the sound of her voice singing songs with their lot.
We know that the stone hasn’t moved from the place,
as centuries pass and our memories erase.
The heart beats inside,
it will never die,
and you can still feel it through the stony face.
There are some who say it’s been cursed by a norn,
and shudder while gaping with dread at its form,
but secrets it kept,
and sailors protect
who couldn’t find shelter away from the storm.
The wise older women are bound to know best:
they say that the rock is protected and blessed.
It’s bidding good luck
in matters of love,
and hasn’t been known to deny a request.
"Draw near, weary traveler wayfaring alone!
Draw near, lay your head down beside living stone!
It’ll send you a dream,
your future will glean,
and in its cold face your true love will be shown.
And when all the stars in the sky will be gone,
and when all the rivers will dry like a bone,
you’ll still hear the fay
who echo away
the beating of her loving heart in the stone."