August 25, 2020

If the cliffs would tell us stories, what would they say?

Holly Cockburn, 25

When walking in the shadow of the cliffs, I found myself overwhelmed by the realisation that I was looking at matter that has been present since the earliest days, the whorls and stripes and scarring appeared to me as an open book, the entire history of the slow shifting evolution of our home. I sat upon an outcrop perch and felt as though I was poised on top of great jutting bones that protruded from a skin of sea-softened sand and grass like soft hair that blew in the wind – a gentle breathing life-swell of our planet. The hues ranged from pale greys to richest puce red marbled with white quartz like rinds that immediately struck me as being an uncanny mirror of animal flesh. A reminder as present in branching capillaries and trees, in fractals and patterns that litter nature, a reminder that everything within and around us is just a fleeting and minute piece of a much larger story – one we should slow down and take time to appreciate. Let us be still and listen to the cliffs – for they have much to tell.

In the cliffs, 2020Poetry