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
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About edenbray

I've always enjoyed writing and thats all I want to do... .. . I’m not sure why I stopped writing, was it 9/11? .. . Eden Bray is born ugly, wet and covered in blood, mucous and bodily functions. The effluence of my short life .. . I'm a Writer and Artist - since 1966, now a Blogger ~ I write lots of poems, written essays, articles, reviews, opinion + comment .. . please join the shebang but more importantly please leave me a marker with a comment for my ego and my encouragement :- thanks, edenbray
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