Poetry

Chandler Hilken photo

By

Gréachan Gallda

The Heart Thief

Through an open window

Or unlocked door,

Came the thief.

I barely noticed his presence

Until I looked and saw his eyes.

I hide upstairs and hear him moving around;

Fingering through my drawers,

Taking what he will and staining the rest.

Last Night’s Altar

I went, today, to last night’s altar,

The bed of snow drops,

In the shadowed, walled place.

I traced the outline of your body,

Where you writhed like a snake,

And panted my name into the moss.

And I placed a stone to mark it.

Gréachan Gallda

Living and working in a remote Irish village, Gréachán weaves the dreams of his heart through the natural beauty of his environment as he considers the intense emotional interactions of love and romance, loss and fear, peace and discord. He works partially on land and partially at sea and believes that he happily wanders the tracks of both this world and the other.