A month with Yeats #3

With¬†all their ancient faces like weather beaten stones…

Connemara Gravestones

They line up to face the water
In that space between
The living and the dead,
That narrow space between
Here and there, light and dark,
Today and yesterday,
Between the fertile ground
And the strand, where nothing grows,
Only the kelp sprawls
And coils in shining ripples.

Flowers have been left here,
Faded reds and pinks,
Storm tattered and fading,

And there, the Virgin
Holds her hands open,
To receive the wind, the rain,
As if they were a blessing,
Head tilted, to hear the sea,
Moving restlessly, relentlessly.

This is for Jane Dougherty’s Month with Yeats challenge. The first line (in italics) of the post is the inspiration she offers, and it reminded me of a cemetery we walked past in Connemara a couple of years ago, down on the seashore.¬†