Power Of Myth

THE DAY THE TOMB OPENED

One summer when I was eleven
I went out across the fields
Past the brimming orchard
Of wasps and tart green apples,
And on beyond the stream, to the tomb

Stone Age, they told me, a jumble of rocks
In a field. Grassy and grazed by cattle, five thousand years
Since its smoke-fumed funeral.
It was mentioned in myth, this place:
Warriors, queens, bards, battle, tragedy.

The sun was heavy on me
And the air still,
A silent afternoon, clicking with swallows
And early crickets, prickling with the promise of magic,
A wonderful sun-hot shifting of everything

I mounted the mound of the tomb
And a car passed on the road, my neighbours
The Ruanes, I think, before it grew quiet again
As I climbed around to the opening,
But started, for the briar-clogged stones

Were open, bright, tidy and clear.
I dropped to my knees and paused,
Afraid to crawl in, but thin beams of sun glare
Slipped through the gaps in the rocks and
I grew braver so on I went, bowing head,

And, crouching, ducked through the low stone door
Beyond; at once my head swam
And I feared, perhaps, noxious gas or something
So I reversed, but as I did I heard a sound
A solid and slow thump, or pound,

Something hard on wood.
I backed out and stood, but was stunned,
For around me on all sides stretched a forest
I in a grassy clearing, cropped short by a thin cow
Now standing by a small calf suckling.

Beyond them, still but singing with birds
In the sunlit heat, this wonderful woodland
Stretched, uninterrupted but for the thump
Of blunted axe on wood, I guessed, for I could see
That a single tree shivered

With each blow; then there was motion
Below, and the cow ceased her grazing to stare
Towards the dapple-dark forest
As a woman came stepping out, old and bent
Wrapped in furs; she looked with astonishment

Back. Then the air shimmered as in a great heat
And the forest lifted and it seemed I was again
In my own century, lush and green with meadow
With a white contrail raking the sky
Some lawnmower buzzing, the world bright

But I saw with surprise that I was not alone:
A girl stood on the crown of the tomb
Looking down, then a man climbed after her
And he seemed familiar, with his grey hair, broad shouldered;
He gasped when he saw me and said: ‘At last.’

‘Eh, hello,’ I said and the girl said ‘Hi.’
The man just stared, his eyes creased to cry or laugh
He said at last: ‘Do you know who I am?’
‘Well,’ said I, ‘indeed I don’t.’ But I caught his eye
And felt a strange emotion.

He said: ‘I am you, lad. I am you, older.’
I blinked, but realised that other things were different
Too; there was a white building on a distant hill
Some trees had grown tall, others fallen
And I thought I had passed in a passage through time

He said: ‘We don’t have long.’
I: ‘How do you know?’
‘Because I remember this moment,’ he laughed,
‘From long ago! It’s good to see you.’
I said: ‘And you! Time travel! Do you’ve any advice?

‘From the future?’ He blinked in a way I blink
Scratched his head as I scratch, as does my dad,
And he spoke with me as the girl picked daisies.
The sun baked the summer scene
Butterflies dropped to the foxgloves

And a wren watched from the hawthorn above
As he spoke and I listened, barely understanding.
He had warnings, but hope
‘Have courage, stand tall, and all will be well
Life will be rough, but good, be tough

‘Do the right thing, that’s enough.’
His eyes were wet and mine were too
I said with a choked laugh: ‘Have we hovercars yet?’
He laughed: ‘Not yet! But… lad, will you do something
And go to your mam and dad, for me, and just look out for them.’

I said I would and the world shimmered for a moment
I nodded to the girl: ‘Who is she?’
He grinned and said: ‘She’s my daughter. She’s your daughter.’
Then we both said: ‘Jeepers!’
We hugged in a strange embrace and the air

Shimmered again and I was back in my own time.
My watch had stopped on my wrist
Crickets clicked nearby in the grass
And I wept, a strange happy sadness
Leaving my sun-hot cheeks wet.