Eamon Ceannt Park; a cycle
Her boot leathers are wet, grass-greened.
Things have gone aground at the grove,
her parasols all caught up in a breeze of light.
Wood clattery heels sound
their outsoundings, a filigree.
The park is scattered as after a storm.
and the sky is close as goose down.
Geese screel and beat overhead,
There is a man in the stone.
The dew is playing fire at her feet,
A legion of rooks guard his stone.
The route through the groves is frozen today;
There is no mistaking this scene for a balletic stasis,
A cold sun rises above the minarets
She is glad to leave,
The Queen’s Rook.
And what if she entered that garden wearing her last veil?
The willows lash her face
The only thing seeming alive in this desolate place
He stalks above her veiled head,
She heard a name.
She looks back to the stone
She no longer sees the far away
The path is different by day.
It is dark beneath the tree.
The rising sun has not yet caught
A clutter of dry debris, a black feather
She would sing him if only he let her.
“Intreat me not to leave thee
Eamon Ceannt Park; a cycle by Christine Murray was first published at Bone Orchard Poetry Ezine and collected then in Cycles (Lapwing Press, 2013)
4 responses to “‘Eamon Ceannt Park’ by C. Murray”
This cycle is outstanding even by Murray’s high standards. One is tempted to avert to “the line of beauty” the point being that Murray, so fabulous as maker, doesn’t mire her ego in the work but reveals a shaping energy like a dance. She’s not afraid to show her hand because the whole she’s drawing on and bringing her reader into touch with — touch being the key word– that whole is open to us once she opens it. Her generosity is proportionate to her gift, which is enormous. Guess I’m a fan of her dancing.
“wood clattery heels sound against the stones”/”sprayed yellow paint on his memorial stone”/”There is a man in the stone.”/”A legion of rooks guard his stone.”/”glad to kick the ice from her feet against the stones.”/”She looks back to the stone.”/”The rising sun has not yet caught the edge of the stone.” I have so many questions about the role of the stone in this poem that I practically feel an essay coming on. Well done over all and especially the rumbling meaning of the stones. Also, shocking switch up with the biblical reference to Ruth’s comment to Naomi.
Thanks Tom D’Evelyn and m.a
wood / stone rings and sings its histories
Happy New Year !