Station Island XI by Seamus Heaney/ St John of the Cross

As if the prisms of the kaleidoscope I plunged once in a butt of muddied water Surfaced like a marvellous lightship And out of its silted crystals a monk’s face That had spoken years ago from behind a grille Spoke again about the need and chance To salvage everything, to re-envisage The zenith and glimpsed […]