Among Tall Pine Trees Poem by Seán O Muiríosa

Out among the tall pine trees,
with a view that could spill
over if it wasn’t so profoundly
controlled by the dark ditches,
the swallows searching cry
and The eternal Will,
I’m trying to come to terms
with the fact that it’s over.
Too soon, far too soon,
just like flour through a sieve,
tap, tap, tap go the years…
How many more is there to live?
Conforming to propriety
is not as easy as it sounds,
but I feel I might as well
bask in this hour of nothingness
like a burly beached whale
surrounded by lapping white surf,
comfortable with my own knowledge
that surely a new tide will come
and lead me somewhere new.
Somewhere away from
currents of confusion. And
anyway – what good is propriety
when the heart of this rock
is beating on the random
impulses of those above?
I could attempt this futile rite
of trying to stop it like many
of those who’ve gone before me,
and to tear life’s events
post-mortemly to bits
with my blunt instrument.
But I often pass their graves
and think, well, maybe not.
Is fate ultimately unconquerable?
Then suddenly, everything fell
back into their natural place,
and I was left to wonder
this space where I remained
beneath tall pine trees and a
fading sun that simply said,
“Go Home.”
The fields before me lay
disastrous, not worked for years.
Brown and yellow and orange
patches intermixed with green.
I watched care free now as
some swallows rolled and
others sank into the city of trees
on the undulating tricolour land.
How long the trees stood there
I could only surmise, but
each year brought new leaves,
new homes and new lives.
Their positions remained
unchanged.
The trees stood as solid as ever
Against this diverse test of time
I turned away, towards home,
finally ready to face mine.