I’ve always been fascinated with the geology of the Lizard peninsula. How an upstart breakaway geological splurge of molten rock slowly (and I mean slowly…we’re talking millenia here!), made its way from the southern hemisphere to pop up in what is now the most southernmost part of Great Britain. The fact that it is so different to the other rocks around these parts means it creates a completely different landscape, which in turn encourages a very different flora and fauna here.

It was St Keverne, on the east side of the peninsula that was the tinderbox that lit the rebellions in 1497 and 1549…the reprisals of which led to the near decimation of the Cornish language…makes you wonder if that molten rock popping up millions of years ago had some kind of influence.

Dry Tree Menhir at Goonhilly on The Lizard Peninsula

SERPENTINE

If you saw me back then,

At the beginning of time,

I was something else.

Hard to handle.

Boiling out of control

Throughout my adolescence.

Thrusting my tumescence

Where it wasn’t wanted;

Snaking it, with pent up fury,

Up between the tectonic plates.

Exposing myself.

A woken cock of molten rock,

Until cooling I lolled to one side;

A spent force, needing to rest.

Like all lusty adolescents, I slept;

Days for me…millennia for you.

On waking, I opened a lazy eye

And saw nothing, so dozed on,

Musing through my fitful consciousness

On just how far I had come.

Crossing the equator, a slow progress,

Bringing with me every kind of rock;

A multifarious horde to this land.

I was the first to arrive here,

The last invader to conquer

And colonise this precious land;

Using both force and strength,

And not as now, by stealth.

For me blending in was easy;

Who was here to complain?

Even mighty winds and storms

Could not disturb my easy sleep.

Ferns and the first foliage were

Mere stubble on my face, but

Trees with their deep reaching roots

Wanted too much from me,

So, I would not encourage them.

And when those first gasping creeping fish

Crawled out from the silted shoreline

I watched for a while before 

Eventually nodding off again

Not much to look at…nothing was really.

It was the shouting that woke me,

First grabbed my attention

When you people arrived

(I now think of you as my people).

I was happy to watch your disputes and battles

With every episode played out before me.

I didn’t even mind when you began

To take parts of me to build.

First your round houses, then walls…lots of walls

And the standing stones, those pathetic phalluses…

What was that all about?

I watched as hierarchies formed.

First chieftains, then kings,

Then saints to rein in the kings,

Until they decided to work together

In order to yoke my people.

Temples were built, drawing in

The scattered communities to worship

Both a God but more so the order of things

It was at these churchtowns.

That I first heard the new words

In the air; throughout the land.

I saw my people rise up…

not once but twice

Fifty years for you, just seconds for me.

Fighting for their language

until they were brutally put down.

Their words scattered to the shadows

And replaced by new ones.

Grade church built in mostly Serpentine

Yet every now and again

I hear the old words in the wind

Coming loud across the heath.

©graylightfoot

A Serpentine lighthouse