Sunday Stories: Counting Crows
A wee original poem—a meditation on sacred visitors and the nature of memory—as my heart, as it often does, pulls toward Ireland.
Onyx silhouettes alight in the gloaming, shouting across the canyon, voices carried on thermal zephyrs we’ve christened for the Virgin Mary’s mother or the Bringer of Light, depending on your view of history and elision. The Tishbite Elijah believed them angelic visitors dispatched from the Divine, a murder that delivered his breakfast and evening repast while he sheltered in place between river and ravine. Prophetic servants or harbingers of scorched earth, they remember faces and never forget a trespass or trespasser. They assemble at dusk, a grudging murmuration awaiting its dawn deployment.
THIS is Jarrod McKenna (of walking-across-Ireland-with-Jarrod)
This is also Jarrod “Your Face Is A Substack” McKenna (in the middle) with me and our pal the brilliant Irish musician Fra Sands (of the trad folk group Na Leanai ) near Castleshane, Co. Armagh, on our border walk in November 2019.
Siobhan McSweeney’s terrific new travel program, Exploring Northern Ireland on Britain’s Channel 4, can be found HERE.
And ICYMI, you can find the whole snakebite story HERE.