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Meelick Church, Co. Galway, Ireland.

Built by Papal Permission 1414
Erected 1474

A moorhen glides where history has not scoured,
by Norman stone on native soil the host
is elevated still.
By silent Shannon water
this January sun sleeps where I,
a pilgrim, strayed upon unremembered
footprints the moorhen has disdained.

This is an illusive work Jimmy and one that I enjoy re-reading, and try to grasp. Thank you.

On a much smaller scale, it reminds me of Al Stewart's songs, written about real places within the frame of history. I just like it... and that you did it.

I'm always intrigued by how the animal world merges with the physical and human worlds, unaware of all that has gone before; whereas, we process our experiences through the mind, taking into account nearly all of it.

It reminds me of how Ken was musing on Hydra, as we looked out upon the Aegean Sea and he spoke of the great, Greek philosophers, et al, who so long ago, had also looked out upon that very same Aegean Sea. [Yet, the same as your poem might suggest, a bird gliding by would have no idea of any of it.]


~ Lizzy

I tend to take this piece from an opposite view, the moorhen disdains from its seat on high, their is a regalness and a freedom that the pilgrim can only dream of, perhaps only keep walking towards along a path that is locked more deeply now than as it was when the church was built?

I also like the disdaining moorhen as a simple metaphor for an animal that is angry with the intrusion of mankind on a natural and beautiful place. Or yes, as you say Lizzy it may just be a bird, its a very eloquent piece of writing; but I've seen a lot of that on this site.

James.

Or it could just be he was asleep by a river and got pooped on by a moorhen even. Ken and Hydra is homework for me, thank you lizzy.

James ~ Actually, it was a personal conversation we had at the time, so you won't be able to locate it anywhere here. I just remembered his sense of awe and respect for all that had gone before, and his feeling of now being in that 'same' place.

The moorhen is a bird unfamiliar to me... I finally guessed that it must be one. I'm certain he must have meant it to be more than just a bird... a metaphor as you say. Regarding my comment here about 'the bird' [there wasn't one made at the time, or even a bird flying by, as Ken and I were speaking, but it's the thought I had/have about Nature and us, in situations like that ~ Ken, by the way, is Liverpoolken who visits here].

I'm not locked into a view on this piece, at all... it brief but substantive, and I was still trying to figure it all out late last night. I really like your first-paragraph comments on it.

~ Lizzy