This Hallowed Ground
Kinder Scout is a storied place, barren in landscape but certainly not in legend.
This moorland plateau and national nature reserve in the Peak District rises 636 metres above sea level and casts its eye over the Southern Pennines, but don't be fooled by size alone.
For outsiders, there is a powerful attraction to this part of the UK. It's a land where temperatures can drop and daylight disappears. It's also where walkers once trespassed en masse to secure access rights to open country, and set in motion the public trails we run together to this very day.
Here we present an allegory of this hallowed ground.
Your day rain feet flick heather hands on scrubby lands
Stars in your head bones in your stead crows in your wake
Try to take as few steps as flocks of rocks will allow.
They dance now as they danced then, as I have always danced.
They are new shoots on ancient roots on fallen trees with humming bees a mossy ravine
If only they would stop, they could breathe.
My trees yawn to see them and my crisp wings extend as my soft leaves fall I look like (dying) but burst furiously, fearlessly alive.
Somewhere the sunset is striking just right.
I dare you to find it.
Entire universes in droplets on unfinished cobwebs They whip-whoop-glee freely through them.
A network of footwork the hummmmm of belonging (Home sweet everywhere)
Are you moving fast enough to hear it?
Moving slowly enough to own it?
If you love something
If you truly love something
You have to let it -
They dare to stay. Leap lick falling shadow lichen trot Streams in your heart stones where you tread
Toes try to take as many steps as my moors will allow. Can we go this way? (Can we try this way?)
Of course, I let them through.
I dance now as you danced then as we have always danced.
You are bright shoots on ageing roots on leaning trees with moths, butterflies, peregrines, You stop for a second, breathe.
The ravine leans steeper and their soft lungs crawl
I smile to be with them for they are furiously, fearlessly alive.
You run now as they marched then as I have always stood.
I slip soil steely eyed try to hide but find that the bough begins to bend. The sunset cuts just right.
It breaks through to meet you.