Here is a poem written many years ago, I now find myself closer to the ash scattering moment than the events in the poem. Indeed, since moving to coastal Suffolk the scattering event might be relocated, so the cry might search in vain for re-unification.
A cry breaks from silent dunes
and wings towards the pines
muffled by a thickening mist
rising out of pastures.
Whispers at the shoreline
are from a tired sea
as the shadows slide to darkness
in the marram.
Grass skirts soft thighs
stars skim on cooling shoulders
whilst meltdown in the eyes
make our movements bolder
We meld
now rhythm takes control
I play you firmly as the song begins
a flood of sound that the years locked in
wells from lips
flies
across
the dunes
to await reunion with my strewn remains.
