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by Mark Connors
Mark Connors

Mark Connors, age 40, has had a number of poems published over the last few years, most notably alongside Andrew Motion in The Word 2008 (York St John University Press) and in anthologies for Poetry Today (1996, 1998). In 2009, he had four poems published in The Word and was asked to read a selection of his poetry on world book day at the York Literature Festival.

Release me here, above this silent sea.
Why here? Only the two of us know.
The cliffs of Slieve League are where I should be.

After that great send off you promised me,
drag my urn up One Man's Path. Let me go;
release me here, above this silent sea.

When I'm nothing but dust, my sweet legatee,
gaze at this rock face in dawn's amber glow;
the cliffs of Slieve League are where I should be.

If you go first, I'll let your ashes flee,
disperse you like sand when west winds blow,
release you here, above this silent sea.

You will remember this shared memory,
what was said half in jest, half not, although
the cliffs of Slieve League are where I should be.

You'll remember when you first heard my plea;
If we should part, will you still make it so?
Will you release me here, above this silent sea?
The cliffs of Slieve League are where I should be.

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