Fantasy Tales By Sharonlee Goodhand – SIRIDEÁN SÚILEABHÁN – Dark Eyed Searcher


By Sharonlee Goodhand


Legend has it that she with the crystal ball

will come with all the answers…

she, sorceress of southern climes

the Dark Eyed Searcher

and so the seers  plot by season & stars

the time of her arrival…

the people wait and tend their roles

and whisper prayers… soon… please come soon

Sirideán Súileabhán sorceress of our salvation…

 It is said, that Sirideán reads signs like no other

that her travels in realms unreachable have harvested much wisdom…

Sirideán is the sorceress all sibyls go to for guidance

the sultry Dark Eyed Searcher that all wizards & magi

secretly lust after on moonlit nights …

the one Earthly woman all gods yearn to own…

But it is also said the dark-eyed Sirideán

walks heaven and earth & cosmos alone… a solitary candle in the darkest of nights;

her obsidian eyes can turn a man to liquid, be it smiling glance or death-stare

and it is told, ‘round tavern tables and family hearths

how she is Child with no Birth… but fashioned by Mother Nature’s hand

as Champion to both creature and land and all who live with honest heart….


The villagers of Dáiríne Dell toiled dawn to dusk

so their hamlet could live up to its fertile name

… but rains were poor and for the first time in known history

the Daris River had dried to a trickle of a tear…

all the villagers feared future days… but if truth be told

they feared the coming of the Dark Eyed Searcher more…

… and a runner had arrived, breathless and dusty and almost too weary for words

she comes… he panted… collapsing at the elders feet;

She comes… she comes… she comes

the whisper raced ‘round Dáiríne Dell faster than an Autumn wind

she comes…

people gathered in the village to speculate and share their prophecies

for doom & gloom or fruitful resolutions … those weary souls still toiling

in soil that blew with the breeze in clouds of  fine ground dust

 paused in their labours to look up, wipe  dirty brows and  breathe a sigh…

… she comes… she with the crystal ball and all the answers…

…alas 3 full moons passing did it take before the revered and often feared

Sirideán Súileabhán  arrived… silent and without fanfare… she simple appeared

at the High Elders elbow… the wizened old mage fair jumped out of his skin

which spread a grin to every initiate in the hall…

You called… her crystal whisper carried to every ear in the grange

what seems to be the problem, you called my name…

It’s a matter of water, the old mage explained

14 full moons and still no rain… the crops have died

our livestock too… children weep, the old can’t sleep-

– even the forest creatures grow weak…

Your mountain-fed river was designed to  never run dry

have you dammed it? Damaged it? Tell me why

the endless river has run dry? Sirideán was not impressed

the freedom of this river must be addressed!

All looked to the elders and paled beneath Sirideán’s stare

 nothing have we done, but toil in the sun

an honest day’s work for any good man

day in and out and into the night… we toil for nought

water is our blight… infants cry all through the night

aged soul pass before morning light…

help us revered Lady…. help our plight!

Sirideán’s cold stare made everyone aware just how much for mankind she little cared –

– the Earth’s well-being was her domain and she knew this mountain river

Sempiternal by name

should flow freely despite no rain;

She swept the congregation with keen penetrating eyes… sharp as diamond, clear as dew

leave the matter with me, she scolded, I shall be back when the moon is new!

The village of Dáiríne Dell to pondering silence fell

but thoughts turned dark that day and souls turned grey

as man accused man and sister charged sister with deeds that caused their downfall…

fingers pointed and words scathed … enemies were made that day;

The Dark Eyed Searcher returned when the moon was new

a sliver of silver in the darkest night… the villagers gathered in number

by lantern and candle light…. would there answer to their plight or would this be

the longest night any would see…

Sirideán’s dark eye flashed like onyx…  her pupils as sharp as shards

that bore into each man’s soul, and chilled each woman’s heart…

The river is blocked and dammed, Sirideán roared… Mother Earth’s Law you have ignored!

You deny precious water to the village yonder… why is this I wonder?

b .. but … but, Revered One , the elder sputtered …  we did not dam the River

the River is our sustenance…. our very life giver!

Nooo…not by You, Sirideán cried… by those in the village you have denied!

… they now divert and channel the water to their dam…. they said you would not share the earth- treasure of water given at birth …  and so took what they needed…

the villagers looked to each other…  excuse fell from their lips

legend has it the Sempiternal River is ours!

No river is yours! Sirideán exploded… this river belongs to Mother Earth

bequeathed to you to use from birth…  did your mother’s not teach you to have a care

did they not teach you how to share!!

… Heads hung low in the village that night… and hearts tolled a heavy bell

sleep did not sooth a single soul in the village of Dáiríne Dell…

Revered One, the elder finally whispered as dawn broke through the trees

we understand our error… help us please! Our children grow weak… the aged no longer speak

silence is our only song… please help us to make amends and right what we have wronged!

Sirideán gazed intently, into every face and mind… she saw remorse and fear in hearts clear

and a hunger in each child’s eye…  Sirideán sighed…

Very well, she said at long last… put the past in the past and make amends this day…

go all, to your neighbouring village… with them you will toil until the dam is gone

and from this day forward, forever and on, the river is of free spirit… and share it you must

never taking more than you need, in Mother Earth put your trust

this mountain-fed river  was designed to  never wither, but nourish all who come in need

for our Mother Earth, in all her wisdom, just can’t comprehend human greed.



SIRIDEÁN: Irish Gaelic name, possibly derived from the word sirim (“to seak”), hence “searcher.”

SÚILEABHÁN: Old Irish Gaelic name composed of the elements súil “eye” and dubh “black, dark,” and a diminutive suffix, hence “little dark eyes.”

sibyls –  A woman who tells fortunes … prophets … vaticinators (ancient Rome) a woman who was regarded as an oracle or prophet.

DÁIRÍNE: Feminine form of Irish Dáire, meaning “fertile, fruitful.”

1 thought on “Fantasy Tales By Sharonlee Goodhand – SIRIDEÁN SÚILEABHÁN – Dark Eyed Searcher

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