Fearful No More

We will be fearful no more
In my fevered shrillness
I had forfeited my land
‘Take it, take it, take it
‘Take this land’. I held my frail hands
Out – Wrinkled, tread veined, blue-fingered
And their visitors look into my eyes
Deep into my eyes, detect a hint
Of madness. And the couple stride away.

And we cling to one another
As the wall of water is rising
And rising and rising and rising
A storm rushes through and the elements
Are doing her bidding
And the water closes over us
And the water closes over us
And the water closes over us
Showing us the seaweed bed.
We gave ourselves to them
We did not once resist.

Years later a van draws up outside.
My ancestral cottage. A tribe of children piled out
And dance with excitement.
A girl shrills: ‘This is our house now!

‘No, no, no, no,’ the Ghosts cried silently
But the family remains – and our incorporeality
Renders us infutile. We are helpless in the face
Of their solid, fleshed-out existence


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