Forgotten Ground Regained

Grondeswigyle (Groundsel)

Winner of the 1986 Cædmon Prize
Originally published in Withowinde 74; announced as Cædmon Prize winner in Withowinde 77, Winter 1986
I come from air ‧ to colonize earth;ground glutton, ground swalloweris what I’m called. ‧ I come to restand rise from settlements. Rich is my homewhere soil is cleared ‧ but I can creepinto corners and crannies ‧ and can survivein the rubble of ruins ‧ raised from dust.I thrust through cracks ‧ to thrive on walls.Though golden my crowns ‧ no king am I.Common my race ‧ crowding like menUnloved by them ‧ we live by risk:Our roots are routed ‧ by rake’s teeth,our nodding heads ‧ new to the worldsliced off by scythe ‧ succumb to its ways.Foe to the farmer ‧ we flourish a while.We grow, we grow, gather in strength,lovers of light, lords of the field,till probing ploughs ‧ expel our bodiespush us upwards ‧ to pale in air.No heaven this ‧ but Hell on earth.And back in gardens ‧ men grub us out,we burn on bonfires, ‧ our burial mounds.We bear no grudges ‧ for goodness is in us:Hated we are ‧ but healing as herbsfor soreness of skin ‧ and stomach ills.We struggle to age ‧ then sigh for freedom.Light-headed we go ‧ not heavy in spiritbut wise in our whiteness ‧ wafting on breeze-dreamsaloft and alone ‧ to light in new realms
Comments of the Caedmon Prize Commitee
… much in the manner of sone of the 01d English riddles [it] keeps moving stance to look at this aspect and that of its subject. The result may be held to be effective rather as a patchwork than a unified whole – but that too can fairly be seen as in the spirit of Old English composition.
Copyright © Brian Mitchell, 1986
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