Wandering, walking through this island
From its northern shore, end to end
Crossing mountains and hard-stone ridges,
Following ancient paths and causeways
Through fields and farms,
Henges, hills and hollows
I feel an ancient architecture and archaeology
Lying buried deep, holding within the ground
Secrets of the past, hidden history,
Trapped below my travelling, tramping feet
Times now forgotten, unheard of and unknown.
Not just kings and courtiers
But common people lately lived here
Survived a frail, precarious existence,
For just one instant, a mere blink of an eye
And were gone, returned to dirt and dust
Into the soil from which they sprang
Not coins, swords and buckles
Bubbling up to the surface,
Not tactile objects, much rusted,
But whispers of daring deeds, untold tales
And the very breath that made them happen
Sealed and captured, held within
Rooted in earth, their atoms still surviving
Ghosts, shadows and stories beneath,
Sounds, voices frozen long ago,
Warriors, heroes, villains,
Love, death, peace and war,
Deception and deceit, valour and victory,
Religious faith confessed and renounced,
Blood spilt aeons ago seeped into the soil
Through many ages, absorbed within,
An elemental memory of peoples,
Hopes and fears, actions and battles,
Their raw emotions, feelings
Now desiccated within this crust
This land has made me
Where I was born and grew,
Draw nurture and live to tell my own tale
Makes me true descendant of this past
A heritage that is part of me
Still lives within my bones and blood
And every breath I take
Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2012
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