Written a long time ago, this is probably my favourite poem. A big thank you to Mr Dougall, my old English teacher at Bablake School, for feeding me rich, rich poetry and encouraging my writing.
She stood by the blazing, brazen rock
And embraced the incoming heat;
Not a sound in the wind disturbed her mind,
Or rendered her thoughts incomplete,
So she stood for a while, and she fixed her own view
While the moor trembled under her feet,
And she gazed at the last dying embers,
And surrendered her soul to the peat.
For eighty score years he had lain in the flame,
With skin clutched close to the flesh,
Neither rain nor the conquering onslaught of time
Has yet even hinted his death.
For the great, grey silent ambassador
Of time and of centuries passed –
All forgotten, and essence of memory
Like the granite itself is surpassed.
(Lyndi Smith, circa 1993)
You can see a video of me reading this poem together with Polished Pebble here.