BAY – a poem by Rosie Adamson-Clark

Outside of the old Light keepers

cottage,

I sit on the granite bench awhile,

pain has overcome me again.

Each movement and breath a wrench,

gasping for the salty sea air to enter my lungs,

my eyes alight on on the rungs up the side of the tower,

a pull on my already depleted resources as I crane forward,

each stop and flutter of my eyelids following the ladder

upwards towards the Light,

empty of energy I am transported as if by magic beams,

to gaze longingly at the shafts of bright streams,

warning of rocks and shallows, and fishermen’s nightmares,

my dreams are of angels who polish the lamp,

or clean the glass,

moving from bench to carriage,

I am all at sea,

stuck, mud buttering up my wheelchair wheels,

not even a flutter of movement will release the thing

or uncaptivate me,

a bird, a curious small Puffin …as am I,

flies close to the part I am marooned on,

the song of gulls seems to laugh at me

as I try to move on,

body,battered, rejects the need to get on,

Seals and Porpoise dipping in and out of the water,

I keep my sad feelings at bay,

waves now gently rolling in, nearer, nearer,

my heart leaps ,in a good way, heat rises

slow sultry light,feckin I say, quiet like,

under my breath, rising and falling

like the motion of cobalt blue,

I think of us, like 2 seabirds, mated for life,

when one dies, what does the other one do?

They go on, gulls screeching and crying,

nature has its way of showing all of life,

the birds,water, treacherous, then calming,

the sultry light so welcome, then too much,

as night descends, and rhythms slow,

its evident, its so natural this living, then dying,

urging us on,get up,live, reach out for more,

when you have been swept out by the sheer power

of it, the loss, the wet tears, go on, swim for shore,

I hold your hand now, We smile, each knowing

we have the gift of another day,life,

we keep the worst at bay, ignoring the rasp

of struggling lungs, and a heart that cant keep up,

after our look out, here and there for more memories

more time, we end another day, content I think,

spooning in a warm bed, diving for covers,

we both laugh, kiss, it has to be three times, then

the Light goes out, all is calm, we are thankful

for our Lighthouse moments,flights of fancy,

loving looks, the feel of your wild curls

on my neck.

Rosie Adamson-Clark

August 2023.

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ehospice is grateful to Rosie for permission to republish her recent poem – and also for the many contributions she makes to ehospice and her lobbying for better financial support for Hospice Services….