in an English graveyard
stands a headstone
a spiralled stone
on the ground adjacent
like the frond of a fern
echoes of Gavrinis
island of goats
their horns also spiralled
all the ancient places
gatherings of stones
rocks carved with circles
and never-ending spirals
when Charon comes to collect us
the death boat travels
across the river
with its own whirlpooling
spirals of current
spirals of current
Very touched by this poem Susan. I could see both the poet and the self alone by the graveside, the fern/stone in hand perhaps and felt the journey through all the ancient places to the spiralling currents ...
ReplyDeleteThere are many places like this on the island of Ireland.
ReplyDelete