The Impossible

The Impossible
Chain-Walk, Kincraig 
for Iain

Who knows what we can do? When friends believe
In us, the chrysalis grows tight and splits
And, struggling out, we fly. Your basalt cliffs
Rose up that day like panic. I swallowed hard,
So scared, my two-day migraine slid away.
Yet when I grasped the chains, they were all muscle,
A warmth of linked hands. Then into an hour’s
Hauling, up and over-ing, inching downwards,
Toes socketing home, holdfasts to hand.
An afterwards, next year, that you’ll remember –
Kestrel leaning upon warm cliff-top air,
Nonchalant grasses, and the glittering Forth.
Anna Crowe

from Skating Out of the House (Calstock: Peterloo 1997)

Reproduced by permission of the publisher.
Anna Crowe

Anna Crowe is a poet, translator and creative writing tutor living in St Andrews. 

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