Original Work / Poetry

Sanctuary

Image

               A sturdy crumbling wall
              circumvents the main road
             and gathers a cluster of ruins
            around the leaning tower of Kilmacduagh.
           Best to arrive at dusk
          when each fallen corner of the church,
          the stables, the cottage
         colour black shapes into the pink sky.
        Dogs from the farm next door
       bark and run and spur ruffled horses
      to whinny, trot and sniff outstretched hands. 

     Suspended ten feet from the ground
    is a gap in the tower –
   the front door.
  All year round it is exposed
 but closed to all
who do not know how to enter.

 

PBS Student Poetry Competition runner-up, March 2014. Read it in the collected anthology here.

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