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Jackie Leven
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Kirkconnell Flow
as a grieving outsider
I slowly did goto the wetland they speak ofas kirkconnell flowthere was rain all the morningsure turning to snowand the wind from the firthheld new ice in its blow but I could not weepin this secret of pineso bitter and twistedmy heart drowned in brineand the danger of livingin a wildness of timeis in losing your wayin the mountains you climb there is fear to the eastthere is sand to the westthere are children in ragewho have never been blessedthere are women and menwho have nowhere to goand the wind is still moaningthrough Kirkconnell flow.
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