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Purbeck lament
Ruth Ayle

Snatched from my stratum,
hacked away by candlelight

to lie weathering, gold to grey.

I wanted to lie in grass forever,
let the brambles cover me over

and children scramble on my sides,

but stand as grave marker, carved
with epitaph and name for a woman

whose death only I remember.

When the moon turns dark
and the planets brilliantly conjoin

I will uproot from my founda ons

lumber out across the Purbeck plateau,
a darker moving shadow, an old man
with rheuma c joints and terrifying face,

down the cliff to Dancing Ledge.
I will paddle on my sibling rock,

sea-pa erned with wavelets,

then slowly dance for the joy of living.
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