Joanne Maria McNally
Abandoned to the Hawks
Abandoned to the crows, wild boar, stalking hawks
This humble dwelling looks more like a hovel
Than an abode which sheltered life, nurtured seed
Cracked and crumbled, its shape now a mystery
Its destiny an illusion, it rests on the hill
Quite oblivious to time, to its defining story
This ruin on the hill’s shored up by thrusting trees
By unruly roots and branches, once maintained, pruned
That now spread in abandonment to the caprice of moods
Veiled in bluish autumn mist, the ruin still glows:
Cloak of leaves all ablaze; stoked by the sun’s last ebbing rays
Though its folk, its dwellers, have long since departed
And with them the oxen, lambs and trusty old donkey
And far-travelled camels: these creatures of witness
Harbingers of faith have long since dissolved, like the myth
Yet with this ruin, with this one-time sacred sanctuary
Passing seasons, life, ageing, death once contained meaning
Were commemorated with an ultimate and eternal unity of being
Costa di Morsiano, Villa Minozza, Italy, 12 Oct 2008