Tree

Tree


A priest from another land
Fulminated
Against heather, black stones, blown water


Excommunicated the wind
Damned the clouds
Cast the bog pools into outer darkness
Smote the horizons
With the jawbone of emptiness


Till he ran out of breath -


In that teetering moment
Of lungs empty
When only his eye-water protected him
He saw
Heaven and earth moving.


And words left him.
Mind left him. God left him.


as Ted Hughes would have it. I can't give you the rest because, that's all I can remember, and the internet has gone out through a vast swath of California because it's windy so I can't seem to look it up. I'm not sure how I'm communicating with blip, TBH. (Edit I was forced to find the book, so I've added the relevant half of the poem above - from Remains of Elmet, a book I recklessly bought with my first ever university grant).  Reminds me of that other Ted Hughes poem, Wind, about the house riding the storm all night. Another one I can only partially remember!