Above is a picture of Portglenone Forest, where I grew up (my father was a forester).
Deep in the grounds of a burnt-out hotel, / Among the bathtubs and washbasins / A thousand mushrooms crowd to a keyhole.
/ This is the one star in their firmament / or frames a star within a star. / What should they do there but desire? / So many
rhododendrons / With the world waltzing in its bowl of cloud, / They have learnt patience and silence / Listening to the rooks
querulous in the high woods
They are begging us, you see, in their wordless way, / To do something, to speak on their behalf / Or at least not to
close the door again. / Lost people of Treblinka and Pompeii! / "Save us, save us," they seem to say, / Let the god not abandon
us / Who have come so far in darkness and in pain. / We too had our lives to live. / You with your light meter and relaxed
itinerary, / Let not our naive labours have been in vain!'
Derek Mahon, 'A Disused Shed in Co. Wexford"