At the Grave of Sylvia Plath

By Mark A Murphy

 

You tell me that the traumatised self

must remain buried

beyond all present light –

so the Heptonstall horizon narrows

to the anguish of a girlish heart

proclaiming the dominion of death.

 

But if love can save lives as we must

believe it can,

now it is my time to heal you –

though the faint sound of loneliness

issues up from the ground

there is only care in its waterlogged murmur.

 

Beloved, let my hands upon your body

always exalt life

beyond all schema or verse –

let your head upon my breast

in this September graveyard

be the sacred place where you always find peace.

 

 

 

_____________

I was born in the UK in 1969. I studied philosophy as an under-graduate and poetry as a post-graduate. My first full length collection, Night Watch Man & Muse is pending from Salmon Poetry (Eire) early in 2012.

 


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