Wednesday, November 14, 2012

In Memory of Ted Hughes: Welsh Lullaby

Listen and you can hear it too

The naked hedges bristling through

The thoughts of another year gone -

Cannot unmake the swallow’s nest

Or uncoil the primal mind to grasp

And endeavour time like the clouds

Frigidly woven through the November hillocks -

And through the valleys, generations laboured

From the immutable inheritance of field,

From the grudging farm made in the image

Of that painful marriage, between God, Man and Death

This is what they toiled for, it was written after all

And so it was true, he insisted, eyeing the rain

Upon the Church slate, like it was a miracle

That Life could not be anything more than this brutal

Simplicity - leaving it with nothing but his sacred duty,

And that everyday contentment to “let things be” -

And listening you could hear it too

Not that Natural silence, intermittingly

Breaking to reform, like the rhythmic waves

Of Cardigan‘s distant cliffs, but another greater silence,

Left in the vacant gaps, of hedges, of nests, of fields,

Of villages and of minds, where all things come to pass

Like the November wind motioning to Winter's coming light. Ted Hughes & Shamanism