CEMETERY HILL

It is early August evening

We walk – Domini and I –
up this weary tree-anointed road
Voices hide in the gritty chickweed
Cling to the clutch of granite gravestones

Insect legs crackle

Here – hidden in the hum of dust daisies
and wild clover – whisperers are singing
Bend your knee. Touch your ear
to the earth’s rough skin and listen

Domini’s tiny fingers
curl tightly in my hand

Alders – their agony etched in brittle lichen –
begin a gentle evensong They echo the silent
birches that pray daily before the face
of a quiet God. Roots of knee-high bracken
dig deep inside this mysterious inhabited earth

Her feet now aflame
the innocent child shivers
a glorious gold with tiny
licks of fragrant fire

My heavy sandals splinter the dust

Overhead
an east-bound 747
breaks open
the darkening sky

We are each captive in our own world
Tonight – together we cut the invisible
shield and enter this wild kingdom
At the head of the road
At the top of the hill
Bone that has given us bone
We have come home.

________________________

Stand at the crossroads and look
Ask for Ancient Paths
Ask where the good way is and walk in it
And you will find rest for your souls
- Jeremiah 6:16 -