' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' The Ever-Surging Sea Poem by Dónall Dempsey

I lie
amongst the dead

both of us
soaking up the sun

in St. Genny’s
churchyard.

The dead
don’t say a word.

I say many
including these

to the passing birds & bees
stitching sound

intricately into
this morning.

Even silence is
never silent.

A paper cut
cuts to the quick.

The living and the dead
rub shoulders.

The dead
eager to tell me their names

chiselled in time
eaten away by sea spray and lichen.

Dates from 1593
to now.

The ever-surging sea
providing background and photography.

My lover’s laughter
cutting through time

as she kisses me.