What is it, Anu?
This water pouring across the plain
Of Desmond to the sea.
Down the limestone steps of karsted hills.
Through furrowed fields and into the wild Atlantic’s glare,
Below the sculpted cliffs of Clare.
Rushing now with meter in our steps.
Gunneling. Running, and forever onward.
Why me? Why did you love me back there?
Why did you hide our passion in your shawl?
Why did we venture into the race?
Water and the speed of foam still fill our space.
What made us one within our wetness?
Ferdiad, and the hounds of love
Came bounding out of me and down the craggy slope.
I made it there with you.
We thunder downward and pour out into the plain below.
Anu and I, loins locked together within the flow.
Karsts bear hard around us. They crack and crumble.
Crushing anything that ventures in their space.
But we have courage. We have the inner power
Of mystery with the magic, now dark within the glens.
Together we take this solid sight,
And outpour each other in the stony forms of our delight.
Denis Hearn, 2013