We have captured the stones in their circles
first with maps and sketches
now with our many photographs.
They would otherwise move
dance in moonlight’s shadows,
shuffle away to the devils lair,
creep up on a King or a witch.
We have opened the barrow graves to sunlight
pinned them to history with interpretive notices
collected the many bones within.
Lurking on ridges, smothered with grass,
besieged by fields and fences,
children now play in dark chambers
where once ancestors dreamed.
Do the stones protest at their confinement?
Do barrow wights still lurk after dark?
Have we chased away the Gods-smith?
Do we care?

Copyright © 2018 Kim Whysall-Hammond

First published at London Grip

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