Maia is the name of the last Roman fort on Hadrian’s Wall, Bowness-on-Solway,
west of Carlisle, 84 miles from Wallsend, the start, east of Newcastle.


Walking to stillness, walking to wind-through-the-dry-grass,
to estuary emptiness, the Solway at low-tide,
skirl of a lonely gull, tang of salt and seaweed,
lap-lap on mud-flats, a dog licking its wounds.

I’m walking to Maia, away from Maya.

Walking away from the bullshit,
walking away from the banks,
walking away from Westminster,
from the politicans’ self-interested dance.
Walking away from the rolling news bombardment,
vomiting violence 24/7,
making us fear the other,
fear our neighbour,
and feed the cycle
that sells the news,
sells the guns, sells the bombs,
sells the panic rooms, the state-of-the-art tombs.

I’m walking to Maia, away from Maya.

Walking away from the High Street,
Walking away from Legoland and Lego people.
Walking away from self-servile stations,
from motorway gridlock toomanycars,
from the littering doggybagshitters in the parks.
From animal sadism
and people masochism,
from zero hours contracts,
and fat cat bonuses.

I’m walking to Maia, away from Maya.

Walking away from Putin and Netinyahu.
Walking away from Isis and Ebola.
Walking away from everyday sexism and FGM.
Walking away from childhood hero child abuse
and internet porn – its virtual voyeurism which makes it the norm.
Walking away from the NSA, from GCHQ and hacking hacks.

I’m walking to Maia, I’m walking to Maia.

Along my long straight road
following a wall of will,
to the vanishing point,
where I hope the land runs out
before my legs.

Mantra of footstep
And breath. Balancing
Inside the Roman
And the Pict.

Kevan Manwaring
Picture: Claire Palmer




This entry was posted on in homepage and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.