Sea Cliffs Poem by Laurence E. Bourke

These are the cliffs, proving Ireland's finite edge,
Steep slabs, rugged hearts of olden things, of all forgot.
We tremble at the slope, skirting these stormy world rims.

Abysmal facade, you wear our souls, drown us in
Your booming laughter, hide us, dead, in your
Wailing depths, the unseen.

Rip tided brinks, your face is invisible, but
I know it is there, carved by watery hammers over time.
Marooned in Earths deep gut, confined to gleam,

To hold each setting sun in granite wound.
So stay here at this height, watch the futures malison erupt,
I have no need of you, I wont leap from your grassy head and fall,

Toward the sky...