The Gower Poem by Giorge Thomas

Grace by grace.
This bitter-sweet cobblestoned world where
Horses stand – stranded - and sheep graze

Without the boundary
Of wire or wood
Is my home now.

It is untouched;
Destroyed, overrun,
Sparse.

It is the place where people often leave
And sometimes return - holding onto
Fanciful cotton-bud memories

Of the place their soul lives.
The sun never sets or lies on
Its marsh but breezes over

Like the tide,
Bringing in the fragrance of
The world beyond. Many will not see that world

For if they leave, they visit,
If they stay, their eyes are forever closed
To the alternative.

There is no world.
There is no life other
Than the Gower.

Their bones and ashes lie here still
Just like their mothers,
Just like their fathers

Enriching the soul of the
Earth
For another generation.