Jura Poem by john appleby

Folded in stone, the dark island whispers across the sound.
A velvet cipher captured between a quiet sea and a red washed sky.
In my dreams I land on Jura's clouded shores and carry the ashes
of my haunted past to scatter amongst the lilting paps
and diamond lochans.

I would bear my bittersweet wonder in a soaring stone
confessional.
My scars cleansed in the salt blasted air.
Quiet voices caught in the ripping wind carry across the weeping
moors, fixing a stone cross on to an ancient world.

In Jura's heart a man could find his poetry and his art,
trawl its dark waters and find nourishment and wisdom.
Climb her mountains to find his children.
Make love in her sea caves; a bed built of driftwood and sand.
Fall asleep in ancient churches, a salmon sky cast through
the lime girt walls.

On Jura a man could dance and never lose his breath.
On Jura.