moss washing over rock
hands in time
I think of all who have passed through
their atoms blessing sky
if you were here with me
your Irish bones and Welsh soul
how many years will I wish
you were with me
this girl of shifting blood
drawn to the pasture lands of Cornwall
more than any purposing Chaîne des Puys can evoke
the Sioule wrapping herself between empty valleys
or the sorrow of les Pyrénées, a gentle horror
languishing in Cathar country
their ghosts stumbling between worlds
I never belonged in those spaces
memory an acerbic ¿Cómo se dice
*as flies to wanton boys are we to the gods
just as I do not now, own a home
in the barren tumbleweed of Texas
unattached, they call it ‘winged pigweed’
even as we sneeze it away to carry on
lonely pilgrimage amongst spoiled tarmac
perhaps it wasn’t even trethevy quoit
but you, and your pure love
filling me with a peace
I have not possessed since
(*line taken from King Lear, Shakespeare).
16 Replies to “trethevy quoit”
However ancient and storied the place, it is the the companion and memory that lives in the heart. That, so beautifully evoked here.
Reblogged this on cabbagesandkings524 and commented:
TheFeatheredSleep – Places and Persons
Fun fact: my great-great-grandmother was from Wales.
Amazing, which is par for your course. Thanks for posting this.
Jackie includes both Irish and Welsh in her antecedents 🙂
Enjoyed reading this. Does it represent an insight found to console for something lost, perhaps? Or is that too glib?
Exactly that. You always get it my friend
thank you so much dear BP I so appreciate that and you
Thank you so much lovely one
no way? Is this why I like you so much? that’s awesome!
Thank you so much that means a great deal
You’re welcome. 🙂
You’re so very welcome.
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