- Vol. 01
- Chapter 12
Image by Rhona Byrne
KincairnA goddess kept her silence.
How was I to have known?
I stand here – Kincairn – Head of the Cairn.
Each year, the blood red tidemark creeps
A little further down my back.
Time was I filled the lough with my weeping,
but now fossilised tears drip from my blind eyes.
I do not need be told the mountains are covered in snow –
my lips turn each icy flake to stone.
Blind then, blind now: only at the world’s end
will I see across the waters.
But I can hear the whispers – Cain.