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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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