Amos Greig is a recent English and Ancient History graduate. His work has been published in Poetry in Motion's The Poet's place, Moment’s and Speech Therapy, Papergirl Belfast, The Bone Orchard, Solstice Poetry and Austrian P.E.N Time to Say: No!. He is currently editor of a literary and arts magazine called A New Ulster. His first poetry collection, Lord’s of the Hill, is pending publication.
Photograph: Natalie Baker
From wild spring onion, flowing water,
the crumbling watermills they fled,
that countryside gave way:
a spot of green,
growing in the cracks of the pavement.
The garden much loved by all, the large
house with sliding doors – abandoned.
Replaced by red brick, terracotta tiles,
the only spot of green is a painted
old iron mangle.
Two up two down, a house pierced
through by metal rods,
holding up the remains of the past.
From a back path with open fields
to enclosed alleyways with runnels
for water,
sparrowhawks, blue tits, give way
to pigeons and seagulls,
clean air for inner city smog;
there is a sadness, there, in the
cramped house, cramped streets
and cramped city.
Greenery becomes a gift.
Water for the parched man the
family grasped at every moment.
The noise so distant, all
pervasive. Not even childhood’s
imagination can hide it.