The Gift of Kilbride

(a farewell to Alan Wilson)


We thank you for this gift of Kilbride

These heathered hills of your youth and soul

We have scattered you now to the wind and sea

And we leave you to this eternity.

 

Here gathered a congregation of those you loved

And who love you still

So many years, so much shared

Not understanding this new game of death

Feeling the shape of your absence

The longing, the silence

 

Silence

 

The sun shines on the spade as it works the earth

Some ashes, then saplings planted

A literal putting down of roots in this sacred soil

The dogs are frantic and joyous

Earl pisses on the lobelia

Little Benji snaps at midges

How you would have loved this brown-eyed pup

And he you

And how he would have revelled in his destiny

Companion at your heel, faithful to your gun.

 

Later at the hotel bar,

Where recently you stood

A pint at your elbow and ever a ready tale,

We share food and drink and remembered times

With the local folk who took you as their own

We raise a glass

And your name reverberates in the room

An echo that will call down the years

Until we too fade and become

The memory of others

A whispered history of time and place

 

Today the sun breaks through the sundered cloud

And we wipe away the tears

 

We thank you for this gift of Kilbride

The heathered hills of your youth and soul

We have scattered you now to the wind and sea

And we leave you to this eternity.

 

 

Simon Conner

Kilbride Farm

August 2012

 

___________________

        

To the memory of Alan Wilson (April 1956 - May 2012)

On the occasion of the scattering of his ashes at Kilbride Bay,

with his beloved Eve, daughter Claire, son Alec, Brother Bill, his wife Christine, and some close friends.

___________________


© Simon Conner 2016