Saturday Poem

Gravestrip in Sichuan Province,

West China

Along the edges of the fields the gravestrips,

with their headstones marking final destination,

journey's end. And from this speeding train

each strip appears a moment only, then

is whipped away– apt metaphor for life,

for these straw-hatted men and women bending

to the clay. Remember Kavanagh,

who couldn't think his mother buried in that

Monaghan graveyard but was always with him

walking along a headland of green oats

in June? These workers toil beside their elders

always with them too, reminding them

that the earth is God, or near as makes no difference,

and each of us allowed a moment only,

one quick glimpse before we're sped away.

by Eamon Lynskey

from Crannóg 20 spring 2009,
Crannóg Media