Hillfort Rising

It doesn’t exist, at

least not the way

we think of it, 

the ground, the air,

the sky-tipped stones

alone, undiscovered in

unplowed blue and green.

That’s just an idea

of separateness, held

in place by limitation

of what we haven’t seen.

The prayers and crops

of ancestors negotiated 

and questioned the same

hungers we have while 

countries were born, while 

blood was spent, while ideas 

were cherished across

generations.

They’re all still here,

waiting to meet us

from every direction,

urging us to follow

their abiding tracks

sunk beneath everything.