Shhhhh………listen,
said the sea.
Can you hear the ghosts of war on the tide,
carried back and forth
from other times, other centuries.
Rocks,
soaked in sorrow,
like tomb-stones littered on the shingle.
Who will save our souls,
cry the ghosts.
Standing Stones
Published by maskednative.com
There is a gazebo at the end of the garden. It overlooks the estuary. When the tide is in, sea water pools around seaweed covered rocks. The sound is peaceful, meditative. I drink an early morning coffee, listen to the birds singing morning songs, watch a spider spin his fragile life between timber beams above my head. Even in the harshest of winters, the rise and fall of tides, sun-light on water, movement of sky, cloud, moon and stars, allows an awareness of nature behind the mask of perceived reality. I offer my words and pictures in celebration and gratitude to God, for allowing me a glimpse behind the mask. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Bio: Teri Flynn was born in Wales of Welsh and Irish Parents. Educated in England, she moved to Co.Waterford, Ireland in 1997 where her Poetry has since appeared in “The Turning Tide” – an anthology of new writing from Co.Waterford. “Southward” The Journal of the Munster Literature Centre and “Imagine” The Tallow Writers Group quarterly review. Her poetry appears in “Sticky Orchard”, a group effort with Alan Garvey, Jim O’Donnell and Anthony O’Neill and grant assisted by Waterford County Council’s Arts Grant Scheme. “Listening To The Grass Grow” with Jim O’Donnell and Anthony O’Neill was published by Edward Power at Rectory press and most recently, in ‘Murmurings’, Remembering Anthony O’Neil, with Jim O’Donnell and Alan Garvey. Her poem Queen Of The Sea was included in the Chesapeake Exhibition at RUH, Bath, 2011. Figurehead Carver, Andy Peters. Photographic display of Ship’s Figurehead Carvings by Richard Sibley – http://www.tallshipsgallery.com A themed display of her oil paintings and poems entitled Cynefin, were on display in Waterford during The Imagine Festival in 2017. Cynefin-pronounced kuh-nev-in is a Welsh word meaning habitat or place. A place where a being feels it ought to live, where nature around you feels right and welcoming. View all posts by maskednative.com
“Rocks soaked in sorrow” ….. I suppose all of Nature remembers our footprints.
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Yes Jana, I think nature does remember our footprints, good and bad, we can take heart that there are many more now that tread lightly, blessing the earth with gratitude.
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monuments
~
our
illusions
of
permanence
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Thank you for your response Geo, your words are a perfect capture for the scene.
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nice symbolism, Teri…too many interpretations…i see an impediment, helplessness, desire for liberation…questions must be answered though…could the answer be provided by the sea?
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Thank you for your comments Virgilio, the post relates to a place not far from my house, deserted now, but at one time a place of great hope for the swiss genovese, but they left, and it was taken over by soldiers, gaining notoriety as a holding centre for rebel prisoners during and after the 1798 rebellion. The shocking events that took place during those times seemed to have charged the air with sadness. All I could do was to pray for them. victims and abusers.
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hey, hope you are well 😉
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I am fine thank you, smiley face. Never better, hope you are too.
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Your soothing words are gracefully illuminating…the life within them always move me dear sister. Thanks for the hugs today! Blessings!
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Thank you Wendell, for your soothing words also.
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Your empathy with those souls I am sure are heard on the wind .. Beautiful
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Thank you Sue. The whispers that link the past and present are all around.
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More so than many realise 🙂
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