Poem 91 – Thin Places

In this place, borders smudge allowing seepage
Between our ancient fathers and ourselves
History collapses to a single point
Connections forged through timeless stones and paths
Peripheral vision glimpses walkers who
Accompany us as we follow their parade
Across symbolic landscapes forged by hand
Our feet superimposed upon their prints
The air is heavy, tingling static charge
Compelling boulders, dense with gravity
We may not understand their meaning yet
Somehow they bind us with a common bond

A couple of years ago we visited Avebury. As with visits to other ancient site such as Stonehenge, I was struck by the sense of the immediacy of the place, a connection across the millennia with many who had trodden the same paths.

© Ben Quant 2022

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