Poetry Map of Scotland, poem no. 259: Mousa

Voices in Mousa Broch
 
Part IV:
 
When you stoop in our doorways
you will feel we were small.
Measure our fear
by the wall's thickness.
 
The gulls that nest
each year where we lived
leave no less behind.
Our stone benches
took no impress.
 
In the shadows
of low-roofed cells
you guess at us,
around the bends
of narrow stairways.
 
But all you know
is the hollow in the millstone
and a white midden
of empty seashells.
 
Sheenagh Pugh
 

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