Sea again, slick with treachery,
floods over dark slabs of geology
drags rain and mist back into itself
winds them into knotted planes of water.
A ridge beyond the islands’ shorelines
hides jagged pain in its roots, sharpened
under the gull-ledged cliffs by the rise and fall,
the promise and deceit of tides.
The old man, the bodach, scratches at hulls,
an age-worn hand over a grizzled chin,
heels them over and on toward Galta Mòr
with to the strong stacks black between.
Gobha, the blacksmith’s lad, points his anvil
a last, low skerry, as sharp as fate, boils
the wave-crests’ foam like quenched fire,
douses its metal with spray and steam.
Shards of clinker are cresting in the swell
waiting for weary sailors to break them,
stem to stern, keel to rigging and take them
home into the depths, sea again.
Damhag, the farthest outcrop, seethes,
safe passage beyond its stone damnation,
but just one sly gust, one wave too far,
makes all tomorrows sea again.
© BH, 2021
Another of the seven poems in my Shiants series, written to accompany Alison Dunlop’s exhibition in Gairloch Museum in the summer of 2021.
This project is inspired by these remarkable islands and, for both Alison and myself, initiated by reading Adam Nicolson’s book, Sea Room.
The exhibition is now on (July and August 2021) and my suite of seven poems are published in the exhibition book - more information at Gairloch Museum and at The Spirit of Beyond website.
The illustration above is based on one of Alison's studies.
All that remains is for me to find my way to the Shiants myself, as Alison has done twice in the last couple of years. I’m open to offers… My dinghy is too wee…
Here is the recording I made for the Museum prior to filming a half-hour set of readings to be streamed during the exhibition.
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