Rainy’s Wall
*
Tatooed by lichen, a wall struts
over twisted rock and the thin soil,
dips and buckles – almost –
with its burden of stone, a
bulwark, bully, and boundary,
that it is too high to leap over.
It divides the living and the dead,
field from pasture, and the bond
between the horizon and the sea.
*
With a handful of grass in my hands
I felt the past cut across my palms.
The loops of grass were like the lock
of your hair I once held between
my fingers. Those precious black strands
I let go to give the wind its due.
*
Now, the heavy lifting work continues.
Beetle, moss and fern are busy
in the crevices, and the soft ground sinks
with the slow justice of this wall’s decay.
Mark O. Goodwin
