Firestacks on Jura: please read my poem
Firestacks on Jura
Emerging from the relative warmth,
from the darkness of the cave, into sparkling light,
on to a wave-washed beach, again and again and again,
her sense of purpose undimmed after months of this Spartan life,
she assesses once more the state of the tide:
Good, still low, hours before the flood.
She gathers stones and rocks into a basket,
wades into the wavelets, adds them to the platform,
already half-built, the pillar, square-sectioned,
more or less, rising from the Atlantic, towering above brine
and wrack and limpets, with a view of nothing
but the apparently endless ocean.
She returns for more building blocks, again and again and again,
raising the stack higher and higher, retreating as the tide turns,
back to the cave for rest and food and sleep.
Tomorrow should see the completion: she is tired, but buoyant,
lifted on the crest of a wave of creativity, of purpose.
The final stones wait, strewn along the shore…
In the morning, she gathers flatter rocks, for the platform,
waiting for the tide to fall, splashes out to the stack,
adds the final touches to her voluntary labours.
Now she collects driftwood, kindling, dried weed, anything
that will burn brightly, takes it to the pyre, carefully
keeping it dry, in readiness for the evening.
As the tide rises, the sun sinks below the far horizon,
darkness gathers: time to light the fire.
She wades back to the beach, watches the flickering flames
reflected on the water, knows
the fleeting fusion of the elements,
satisfied…
Eventually, the pillar is swamped by waves, the flames
snuffed out in a crackling puff of pungent smoke.
Tomorrow, she will begin a new firestack.
****************************************************************************
Julie Brook, builder of firestacks on the islands of Jura and Harris
****************************************************************************
Awarded 5th prize in Quantum Leap Open Competition April 2017 ,and published in QL 78 May 2017.
Firestacks on Jura: please read my poem
Firestacks on Jura
Emerging from the relative warmth,
from the darkness of the cave, into sparkling light,
on to a wave-washed beach, again and again and again,
her sense of purpose undimmed after months of this Spartan life,
she assesses once more the state of the tide:
Good, still low, hours before the flood.
She gathers stones and rocks into a basket,
wades into the wavelets, adds them to the platform,
already half-built, the pillar, square-sectioned,
more or less, rising from the Atlantic, towering above brine
and wrack and limpets, with a view of nothing
but the apparently endless ocean.
She returns for more building blocks, again and again and again,
raising the stack higher and higher, retreating as the tide turns,
back to the cave for rest and food and sleep.
Tomorrow should see the completion: she is tired, but buoyant,
lifted on the crest of a wave of creativity, of purpose.
The final stones wait, strewn along the shore…
In the morning, she gathers flatter rocks, for the platform,
waiting for the tide to fall, splashes out to the stack,
adds the final touches to her voluntary labours.
Now she collects driftwood, kindling, dried weed, anything
that will burn brightly, takes it to the pyre, carefully
keeping it dry, in readiness for the evening.
As the tide rises, the sun sinks below the far horizon,
darkness gathers: time to light the fire.
She wades back to the beach, watches the flickering flames
reflected on the water, knows
the fleeting fusion of the elements,
satisfied…
Eventually, the pillar is swamped by waves, the flames
snuffed out in a crackling puff of pungent smoke.
Tomorrow, she will begin a new firestack.
****************************************************************************
Julie Brook, builder of firestacks on the islands of Jura and Harris
****************************************************************************
Awarded 5th prize in Quantum Leap Open Competition April 2017 ,and published in QL 78 May 2017.