poem

Written by Matthew on June 10th, 2009

From “The Second Voyage”

I know what I’ll do he said;
I’ll park my ship in the crook of a long pier
(And I’ll take you with me he said to the oar)
I’ll face the rising ground and walk away
From tidal waters, up riverbeds
Where herons parcel out the miles of stream,
Over gaps in the hills, through warm
Silent valleys, and when I meet a farmer
Bold enough to look me in the eye
With ‘where are you off to with that long
Winnowing fan over your shoulder?’
There I will stand still
And I’ll plant you for a gatepost or a hitching-post
And leave you as a tidemark. I can go back
And organise my house then.

—Eiléan Ní Chuilleanáin at Poetry Daily

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