Before I was ever born, you were here,
Bravely battling torrent and turbulent tempest,
Your weather-hewn stones, a witness of steadfastness,
The muted, creeping lichen growing across your face,
Your only meagre concession of protection.
Unquestioningly, you take the hand of Fate and embrace,
Continuing a dance of symbiosis, spanning centuries,
Tufted worn and wind dried grasses melodiously swaying,
Offering a little respite from scorching, searing, sun baked days.
Enveloped by your shadow, strength and quiet fortitude,
I am moved, stilled and immeasurably humbled.
What stories and tales and histories, heartless and heart filled,
Have your rough, craggy pores witnessed in Time?
Quieter days of seemingly idyllic existence, when days were slower
And Mother Nature revealed to man and beast alike,
The Sacred Interconnectedness that is Life, in all it’s pains and glories.
From shepherds tending their flocks on rugged, ravaged hillsides,
To bloody, barbaric and savage Clan massacres…
Your gaze unceasingly, unquestioningly looking out
Upon a world, agitated, distressed and knowingly or not,
Searching for answers to quell the eternal questioning, churning within.
Cold, cruel, barbed-wire cuts through view and vision,
No longer natural rhythms of Seasons and Cycles, of Blessings and Being,
But a token,
Symbol of pain and suffering and cruelty and blindness.
Weeping gently, Mother Earth looks on…
And when I am dead and gone, you will still be here.