Timeless Words

Time exists in so many parallels where clocks are never needed.

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My paws sink deep into the sands when I canter down to the beach. The breeze feels warm  and the seagulls are guarding their young in the distance.

Pearl and I nudge each other and we are off for a run.

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John appears from the dunes and waves at our companion. He looks so unhappy since his dog passed away and still does the same walk each morning.

“How are you all doing today?” asks John, reaching into his pocket for biscuits. Pearl and I wag our tails and gently take the biscuits from his hand.

“We’re grand,” says our companion. “How are you?”

“I do not know what the world is coming to,” says John. “I mean, every day there is something else and the media … I mean, don’t get me going on the media.”

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Pearl gets a whiff of something and starts digging in the sand.

“I mean, I was reading ‘Map Reading Error’ the other day and you know those lines:

To what degree and by decree
has media come to mean
the metaphysics of the hang man?

We wait, wanting the simple dark again.

That was written in 1976 and it is as if the clocks stopped then because nothing has changed. It might as well have been written today.”

“You are right,” says our companion, “when it comes to any kind of conflict the powers that be seem to revert to old habits that are rarely for the highest good.”

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I walk on to have a good sniff myself. These are interesting smells and it is as if some birds have walked here that have not been here before.

When I look up I see our companion’s thoughts wander off to a sun-lit room in Belfast. There are men reading poetry and some speak with a stammer so familiar among people who grew up listening to machine guns.

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The clouds start rolling in and we get on our way before the rains come down. John waves us goodbye and stops by the rock as if he is waiting for his dog to follow.

Our companion smiles at us and remembers a poem she wrote that day in Belfast:

For Brendan

You sat in the corner dressed in black,
rose to your feet when I swung through the door,
shook my hand, took my coat,
we both knew we had met before.

Not here, not in this life,
somewhere to the left of your shoulder
where you glanced and waved your hand.
I immediately knew what you meant.

ยฉ Xenia Tran

I look up at her and smile. Time exists in so many parallels where clocks are never needed.

I am sending you all so much love,

Eivor xxx

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Lines quoted by John from Map Reading Error, a poem by Brendan Hamill from his pamphlet ‘Emigrant Brother’ (1976), Belfast: Lagan Press.

With love from Eivor, Pearl and Xenia xxx

Photographs taken by Xenia Tran, edited in windows editor.

Camera: Lumix Panasonic FZ38, setting: iA

Daily Prompt: Clock

dVerse Poets Pub Open Link Night #181

Author: whippetwisdom

The stories, poems and photographs on this blog are the original creative work of Xenia Tran. Inspired by life in the Scottish Highlands and in awe of nature she gives voice to the wisdom of her adopted and fostered whippets.

51 thoughts on “Timeless Words”

  1. Whippet this is exceptional. I love this. You left your comfort zone๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿ˜Ž and it is really cool. I long to see more of this. Keep it up๐Ÿ˜๐Ÿ‘

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Beautiful Whippets having fun photos plus an interesting background story. How quickly the world has turned away from Northern Ireland as the Middle East many parts of Africa, Afghanistan, France, Germany etc etc etc take the headlines day after year

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Thank you so much for your kind words Denis. Belfast is a different city today and the people who lived through the troubles and the poets who continued to write about them will always hold a special place in my heart. We lived in London throughout the IRA bombing campaigns whilst surrounded by Northern Irish in exile and continuously experienced many angles of the same story. Those who run our countries so rarely seem to understand the teachings these conflicts carry within them. Thank you for passing by Denis and much love to you xxx

      Liked by 1 person

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