I've always been here. Not always as conspicuously
as in 1968, 1998 or 2006, but always lurking somewhere on
our beloved Marsh ... absorbing the light magnificence of
the sky at Dungeness, bathing in the warm summer sounds of
Dymchurch Sands, the brush of the waves on the beach, the
echo of a child's laughter in a child's paradise ... and in
the distance the horn of Typhoon riding on the Southern breeze.
balmy evening - tide far out, beach smooth, sand glistening
and sighing after glorious day. I stand here proud - a Marshman
true, full from Fish 'n Chips, watching the blazing sun settiing
beneath the wall. This is MY land - this is OUR land ... wrestled
from the grip of the sea through storm and tempest, blood
and age, time and tide. And as dreamy dusk takes hold and
I stand here still, refreshed and strong, I hear him calling
- on his own celebration day ... our hero - Syn - The Vicar
- The Master. The Fighter - The Pirate. The Hero - The Englishman.
here in this illustrious and mysterious corner of Olde England
- OUR corner of this precious realm, I hear his message of
courage and heroism pervading my soul. My ancestor calls to
me through the swirling mists and I know the deepest secrets
of the Marsh, both dark and light - as rare as blue glass
stones - hidden like shipwrecks from all but those whose hearts
are true. And as the midnight tide, with moon in tow, floods
the bay once more, I stand alone upon the wall, breathing
in the sweetest air of life.
it's a shimmer on the swirl, a 7th wave upon the shingle or
a whisper on the wind, but i'm sure that just offshore I hear
a bongo drum - and maybe the faintest rumble of a proud old
pirate tune ... "And here's to the feet that have
walked the plank ... yo ho ho for the dead man's throttle.
And here's to the corpes afloat in the tank and the dead man's
teeth in the bottle!"
I've always been here ... and I always will. ...............
Jayl De Lara