INNOCENCE


Innocence

They laughed at one I loved

– The triangular hill that hung Under the Big Forth.

They said That I was bounded by the whitethorn hedges

Of the little farm and did not know the world.

But I knew that love’s doorway to life

Is the same doorway everywhere.

Ashamed of what I loved I flung her from me and called her a ditch

Although she was smiling at me with violets.

But now I am back in her briary arms;

The dew of an Indian Summer morning lies

On bleached potato-stalks – What age am I?

I do not know what age I am, I am no mortal age;

I know nothing of women,

Nothing of cities,

I cannot die Unless I walk outside these whitethorn hedges.

-Patrick Kavanagh

Copyright © Estate of Katherine Kavanagh

About edenbray

I've always enjoyed writing and that is all I want to do... .. . I’m not sure why I ever stopped, was it 9/11? .. . Edenbray is born ugly, wet and covered in blood, mucous and bodily functions. The effluence of my short life .. . I am a Writer and Artist - since 1966 - I'm now an avid Blogger ~ I write lots of poems, written essays, articles, reviews, opinion + comment .. . I have published many of my poems in booklets ... please ask for details or just join the shebang by leaving me a marker with a 'like' or a comment for my ego and my encouragement :- thank you so much for listening ~ edenbray
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