Bethells My ancestors named you A name I have long since Forgotten And yet I shall not forget Your non-calm Your primitive anger And your twisted seas. The edge of the world Semi-circled, haunted By the ghosts of my ancestors And the still faces of a thousand dead, Turning, Ever turning, And swallowed again Within your green-black troughs And heavy Mountain heavy Seas. Primordial, ancient Sand, iron-grey, Tussock, Bleaknesses … Glooming shadowed caves Thundering, deafening Green-black walls Of water And forbidding blacknesses That rear like the pillars Of a satan's temple Glooming rock. And wind that howls Still An unnameable Unwombed howl of Lostnesses. And our coming And our gentle, happy laughter Our human-ness Has left you undisturbed As you seemingly have been Since the world began … A whisper Of unfet life … A second Along the aeons Of your endeavour There is Just you And the ending sea Your sole companion Sea, sand, wind, rock. Bleaknesses, Non-humanness, Non-calm. Primitive … And pitiless … The Resting Islands The resting islands Of the oldest living things on earth Lulled by the muted sounds of birds Who fear no predator. Ancient land Of primeval living things Undisturbed by violence And sudden death. Creatures born of the air Now Wingless, Unafraid Shyly certain of their welcome Upon the bosom of mother Papa.