Passing Water on the Beara and Glancing over to the Ring of Kerry
by John Kinsella
With the snow-caps of Macgillicuddy’s Reeks
across the water, the road up Caherkeen towards
Lackawee mountain, a proud peak of the Slieve Miskish
range that tests translation, leaving even a thick-skinned
punster shame-faced, the scene brings adrenaline
and urine to full measure. Driving into a layby
with the roads empty and a précis of topology
reducing vastness to a patch of broken stone,
sheep indifferent or distracted by their own
pissings, I mark territory which is not mine,
concentrating through bitter cold to pass water
where storms have eroded confidence
in all surfaces, in their ability
to see a journey through.
I can say, though, that I will
take none of this back to cities,
won’t skite about it as photogenic moment,
lament leaving such a landscape,
having taken it all in, exposed
myself to the elements,
steam rising from the hillside.
About the Author
John Kinsella is an Australian poet, novelist, critic, essayist and editor.
Post Image
Matpib: MacGillycuddy’s Reeks, 2007 (CC)
