There’s a small, family gathered stone cairn on the mountain side of Carningli, in West Wales, where we often go to commune with the elders.
Whilst in Crete, we created an echo. We have been staying in a small, serene and very beautiful landscape in a place called Stavros, where the famous scene from Zorba the Greek, when Anthony Quin and Alan Bates dance on the beach, was filmed. We’ve walked along the hillside most days. This poem comes from that place.
Also on this holiday, I read the beautifully crafted, elegiac memoir, ‘Radio Dreams’ , which I recommend to all who have ‘ loved and lost’ (which is, I suppose, pretty much everyone who ever lived !)
And so, with respect, this poem is dedicated to Kimmie Rhodes and to Joe Gracey.
We made a cairn
Of Cretan rocks.
Small pebbles placed
In memoriam for those
Loved and lost.
In the place we made it,
Reached by a red earthed, goat dusted track
Ghosted by myrtle green shadows
Greeted by the tiniest yellow wilded flower
Whilst sea and sky unfolded
Bolts of celestial blue
Cloud cleared and cotton wool true,
The stony beaches rolled by
Restless waves, seaweeded black.
We stop and stare.
Keys chiming in my pocket
Goat bells ringing.
Echoes from Carningli
Globetrotted in the autumn air.
In the cave dwelling distance
High above ‘Zorba’s’ beach
Last night, and all others beside
A devotional light gleamed
Framed below a gap toothed moon
It’s silver glistened face
Like those of the ones we loved
But, not just yet,
Not just now.
It lingered, slightly beyond our reach