The Hill
A sequel to “Time Before”. Taken together they depict the passing of time from childhood to a very old age lived alone by the survivor of a life spent with a loved one now deceased but deeply missed and remembered. The focus is on change, but also on how, for the character, a long life is but a fleeting moment packed with memories that never fade.
Inspired by the people who spared their time to talk to me during a period of reminiscence research I completed some while back in a remote, rural community in the Hebrides.
NB. The word “tide” used in the last line is a colloquialism used in the north of England. It means guide/carry/protect. I’ve kept it in here, as I cannot think of an equivalent in formal English, that is, a word that carries the same complex sense. Most likely this use derives from seafaring, as do so many English words and phrases.
The Hill belongs to the following groups:
All Things Poetic, Artistic, Philosophical, EMI - The Group and Vibration in Art and Verse - VAVoom!Long wynd home against the deep, stretched snow
lying along the hill, clutching branches of lives even older
than these worn, cracked bones, cold seized joints crying against the day,
pleading the night in cold places,
damp, chill evenings,
rain,
and white blankets thrown so neatly
to cross this path, stoop this aged scarfed head,
bowing deeply, ducking its aching neck,
to dodge the winds that dull my grip
as I catch the icy blast,
and stagger.
Sounds of geese and red flashes, like berries dancing,
witness these uneasy steps, this watcher since those best of moments
when we climbed here the first time,
those days of crayons you called them, later,
when we scurried the hedgerows,
purple brambled faces and broad white smiles,
catching darted glimpses,
a warm, tiny hand in mine, painless pleasure.
I loved, long gone
to timeless years, extending still
when I walk here with my bent back,
to carry home the shopping,
clutch at sights with old eyes so tired, so close
your voice as clear as this day, warm like another time
to keep me on this hill of ours,
by my side, like you said that first time
when we wound the trail of secrets that held the hill against our fall,
and the other things
I remember, like I said I would,
while you tide me home.
© Alan Dean
erich biemer 14 days ago
wonderful alan…both parts…..
Alan Dean replied 13 days ago
thanks a lot erich .. I posted this when I first joined, and didn’t know much about posting to groups, so now they take their first steps ….