By Jennifer Moore
This poem was inspired by the Bedruthan Steps on the Atlantic Coast in Cornwall, England; visit https://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/carnewas-at-bedruthan to learn more. The jutting granite rocks dotted across the beach are, according to local legend, stepping stones for the giant Bedruthan.
On days like this, when the wild wind whips
your salt-worn cheeks,
her brined breath iced with fury;
when you thrill to hear the cymbal clash
of wave on slate, its crash, its smack;
when the ragged crags come thrusting up,
rearing from the swirling sea
like jagged fins, I ask you,
can you see him too?
The ancient giant who shook these shores,
still striding tall,
each booted foot a shudder-clap
to snap the stone
from tufted cliffs,
to quake the scudding clouds,
the drowned men
from their churning beds?
Jennifer Moore’s previous poetry publications include Mslexia, South and Other Poetry, and she won the 2015 Hart Crane Memorial Poetry Contest. Visit her at https://jennifermoore.wordpress.com
Featured image courtesy Loz Pycock / CC
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