Writing

4th October 2020

Welcome to my site and to my first post,

In COVID times, it feels important to gather and reflect on happy memories.

This poem is about memory.

WALKING IN MARGARET’S SHOES AT WHITEHEAD

A poem, like a memory, takes time

to unfold, to raise its new wings, preparing

for flight. The stern green poppy head

refuses to hurry to relinquish her seed.

My words come slowly like late summer roses,

days after the gentle gift of your journey,

when you lent me your shoes and your view

of what’s passed. You said, houses have withered

away from this place. You said, landslides

have altered the shape of this hill.

And while the sea distantly told itself secrets,

Maire named her childhood with stories of flowers.

Together we noticed fern scribbled on rock,

vines tonguing the lighthouse,

nasturtiums on sea sand.

Even now, I am walking the labyrinth of memory,

while seagulls decisively lift from the water,

head precisely toward the horizon,

and never return.

from Elements of Distance, Lapwing Publications, 2017

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