Fiona Bradley – The Dance



By Fiona Bradley

Distant music drifted
on the chill evening air.
Faded flowers limped
under the headstone’s dusky stare
my knees pressed hard on stone,
aged and cold
eyes lost in letterings of
death, bold in gold.
Someone behind me
stale breath in my ear,
a long dirty fingernail scratched
awake my fear
his hair wildly matted hide a face
distorted and sad
a lonely eye, gazed back at me
crazed and mad………….
In the Glen, headfirst they buried him,
under a rock this time to be sure
But sometimes at night when they turn out the light
I hear the music once more
through lace bars I watch him
as his feet start to prance
higher and higher, faster and faster
dance Abhartach dance
dance Abhartach dance.



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