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Sgeir Mhor, by Britta Benson

This poem got published by the BlueHouse Journal today. I leave a link below. It is a complete rewrite of a piece I started last summer, while staying on the Isle of Skye, a place that has inspired much of my writing in the past and will undoubtedly do so in the future.

Sgeir Mhor

To the left of Portree Bay,

just metres from the headland,

lies Sgeir Mhor, the Black Rock,

a proud, barnacled bolder,

pockmarked by centuries

and protected by the sea

from unwanted intrusions

half of the time.

I walked to this skerry

at the lowest tide,

stepped from stone to stone,

balanced on slippery seaweed

and played hide and seek

with the carefree licks

of the Atlantic,

hungry for more.

I didn’t get my feet wet.

As I stood on the highest,

the blackest stones,

I wished I could reach

the dark rocks in my heart

just as easily, nimble,

in a few confident strides,

at the right moment of flow.

But my heart is not tidal.

Here’s the link to issue 5 of the BlueHouse Journal with the theme of stones.


3 thoughts on “Sgeir Mhor, by Britta Benson

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