|Forum Home > Poems & Songs Of "The Great Hunger" > A famine Poem....|
Circling like a drowsy herd,
clouds beyond an errant bird
cannot touch the solid hills
that roll down to supple fields.
A Face! A vision of ragged hunger,
skin and bone, surprised me then,
their way blocked by bending grain.
How could hunger happen when
The fields were fertile, the ample rain,
pastures surviving almost anything.
Diverted cattle, pass me foaming,
mashing their fecund, smoking dung between
clotted hooves. I now remember that moment
when my heart became a child's again
as I watched then pass each unique, rare,
heavy tread--roaming immediacy.
Why did I as a child imagine here?
The eerie chain-link of memory, grim
because he let no one near him.
Perhaps that's why I embraced his
views instead. They answer now
those questions he said would make
a heart forever proud to bow.
Caged by a legend, so here now
I welcome the sodden, breathing truth.
From out of that dream of miles and days,
I came at last to the Crooked-Wood.
It was then that they came again.
Came more faces with hollowed
eyes and outstretched hands.
A filthy, meandering crowd
in search of food.
The road before me me decended
into a deep arboreal shade.
I stopped before a signpost
twisted and unanchored
pointing the way to Fore, to Ben:
Here those visions tended
his cousin Beatrice and her pub.
To be continued......
Kevin A. Fitzsimons