Glymur and the crossing
we take a path through an arctic edge
a way of late lupin leaves starred
with rolling beads of mercury
our way opens next a narrow stair
trod into curves by the dryers of cod
who strung this cave through other years
but stared as we do out through a vast
stone arch, upriver, to where Glymur's
spray grows clouds above the waterfall
down here the river spools long widths
of cold and we only know the crossing-place
by the steel hawser sunk into each bank
I take the wire in my hand and there's only
a suggestion of balance, not what
you'd call support, there are tumbled
stepping stones part-submerged
the water beats and rumbles in my head
I balance and feel the dare come right
midstream pause to duck my body through
below the wire then step onto fifteen feet
of slender log that promises to carry me
I stretch my arms above the river's
deepening light and don't look down
walk the log's road to land, and love
these steps that will not come again
Jean Atkin grew up in Cumbria, with Shetland ancestry. Her most recent publications are The Bicycles of Ice and Salt (IDP) and Fan-peckled (Fair Acre Press), both published in 2021. Her poetry has won competitions, been anthologised and been commissioned and featured on BBC Radio 4. She has been Troubadour of the Hills for Ledbury Poetry Festival, and was BBC National Poetry Day Poet for Shropshire in 2019. She works as a poet in education and community.
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