Berwick Poem by William Fay

I.


Berwick


Crossing the Tweed river railway bridge
Our train slows, then stops dead,
To show sudden at sunset this vista.

The rivers black birdless estuary,
And massive, starless, quiet night,
Like the fugitives cave,

The lamp at the mouth extinguished,
From where figures chart time passing,
From where gathers all precedent.

See the red guard upon the high wall,
The returning Jacobite prison ship,
The stumbling line of deported men;
Hear slow drums, the wailing of women,

Hear the cry of the watchman,
"Lonely, this lonely broken night."
The bells are awake, the gate closed.


II.


Lovers upon the White Wall


Then where the White Wall slopes,
Through wild fennel and toppled stone,
I see - hooded outlaw faces,
Her sunflower yellow padded gilet -

Their sparking rubbing shape standing,
Trojan, upon the unstable allure.
The grasping male, plump, imposing,

The golden other, en pointe in track shoes,
Straining upwards a blushing neck;
Then the desperate longing for escape,

To a pink room up narrow stairs,
The dreaming boat, drifting, island to island,
Where hands grope toward new worlds,
Over maps, breathing and imagined.

And I love's spy, the watchmen tonight
In Priam's house,
My shamed heart throbs, then into the cave
Cries out for love, for you my lost love.


III.


Pontikonisi


There is a blaze upon a far hill.
There is in the glass blowers yard
A flaming kiln, and at work,
A blue flame searching for form.

Remember, red hot from the fire,
Our own cooling escape attempt?
Our languid, yearning Ionian adventure;

Then the waking cold water return,
Back to earth, a northern winter coming,
Like the falling October star,
A slow trail of sparking ash raining

Upon the white walled church,
Upon the cypress grove,
The place of ghosts, and haunting love;

Then the incredible boat, its magic force gone,
Transforming now into lonesome stone.


IV.


Wester Tor


The place of ghosts, and haunting love;
Now, kingdom to kingdom, this train,
The night's last journey,
Stopped upon a bridge,

Waiting to cross over,
Our still disputed border;
My interminable age of regret and loss,
And ghostly apparitions,

Like the elusive light I saw
Atop the high cairn upon Wester Tor,
Then the Longstone lighthouse beam
Cranking into action,

And love sick, weeping figures
Knelt beneath a toppled wall;
What images return.
The dreaming boat, drifting, island to island.


V.


Transfiguration


What images return;
You waiting beneath the cypress tree
Snow white in your summer dress,

Watching the candle lit procession
Crossing toward the white church,
The summer place of transfiguration.