You and she had four bright days
on southern tussocked hills.
On Monday night in jagged pain
you crumpled to the floor.
On Friday morning there we sat
baffled, unbelieving,
in the chapel, at the cemetery
above St Kilda’s Bay.
Up at five that morning
for two hours she drank tea,
listening to your skirling pipes
cry from your CD player.
We listened to your eulogies
told by friends and clan,
while to our left the windowed wall
showed us St Kilda’s Bay.
Vast clouds billowed, black and grey,
dark seas endless stretched.
The waves were surging back and forth
down on St Kilda’s Bay.
She did not want you rushed away
after your hymns and rites.
By your casket at the windows’ end
she stood alone with you.
Did you see her ? Did you hear her ?
She bent down and leant her head,
her arms, on your timbered chest,
for you had deserted her.
She smoothed one hand in circles
on the wood that shrouded you,
trying to draw you back from
beyond St Kilda’s Bay.
We kept our distance by the doors
in that keening silence.
At last she turned, walked back to us,
your 14 year bond severed.
Dark grey clouds were billowing,
the gulls and wind screamed out.
The waves were surging back and forth
around St Kilda’s Bay.
Previously posted November 2016.