Grain Earth House
I had to break my pen to unlock a hole in the ground older than Lazarus. Crouched, fingers grazing wet stone as I made my way to panic. Quick withdrawal — back to where I could stand upright and breathe. I’ve come this far (and it has been a very long journey) to turn back would be a regret deeper than poetry. Try again and, as with most things, the center was closer than I feared and it was quiet and dark and soothing.
I’ve been in Orkney
crawled through claustrophobia
as if from a womb
About Bartholomew Barker
Bartholomew Barker is an organizer of Living Poetry, a collection of poets in the Triangle region of North Carolina where he has hosted a monthly feedback workshop for more than decade. His first poetry collection, Wednesday Night Regular, written in and about strip clubs, was published in 2013. His second, Milkshakes and Chilidogs, a chapbook of food inspired poetry was served in 2017. He was nominated for a Pushcart Prize in 2021. Born and raised in Ohio, studied in Chicago, he worked in Connecticut for nearly twenty years before moving to Hillsborough where he lives and writes poetry.
Bartholomew Barker, Poet 
We’ve never actually gone ‘down the rabbit hole’ – bad backs all round dictate otherwise. I made do with walking right round it instead… http://www.spanglefish.com/berniesblog/blog.asp?blogid=16896
LikeLiked by 1 person
PS
I’ve been thinking about this, and what you’ve written – your haibun – very much catches the tendency in the Iron Age to go into the earth. In Britain, the folk of the Neolithic tended to look to the sky and the stars – folk of the Iron Age went into the earth. You capture that. You also capture that feeling of enclosure and restriction which might have been used to alter consciousness in initiation ceremonies. You’ve opened the lid on a very big topic there, Bart….
https://theorkneynews.scot/2021/09/07/the-gnarly-old-question-of-souterrains/
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Bernie! I could really feel it when I went in and came out.
BTW, my opening line about breaking my pen was not poetic license. The key to open the gate was one of those hefty iron keys, probably over a 100 years old) and the lock had been standing outside in the Orcadian wind & rain for who knows how long so I was simply unable to unlock and enter. My hands just didn’t have the strength to turn the key through the tumblers. Fortunately, there was a hole in the key’s handle so I inserted my pen to create a lever and thus gained access but the pen sustained substantial damage. Well worth it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Not many folk actually visit it – so the key probably hasn’t been turned in the lock for a long time. Your’e in m’blog – again!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Bernie!
LikeLike
I am genuinely puzzled as to why there are no responses to this piece of writing – just our exchange. Is it too far away from most folk’s experience? But it isn’t – it’s something at the heart/root of our being human.
Funnily enough, the rite of passage idea could be said to connect with these lines in your next poem…..
“Like out growing the family manse
it’s time we stopped sibling squabbling
and worked together to move out and up
before we burn the place down”
LikeLiked by 1 person
That’s an interesting thought, is there a species level equivalent of a rite of passage? We may need to invent one so we can pass into adulthood.
LikeLiked by 1 person
If only!!!!!!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Holy Moly – I just thought – maybe it’s WAR! For a long time, many cultures have seen war as a rite of passage for the young men of their society. ‘Killing your man’ was what made you a man. Holy moly, what a thought – to humans war is the species rite of passage. Jeeez. I can’t let myself think about that.
Another reason that the Neolithic appeals to me – looks like they didn’t go in for wars.
LikeLiked by 1 person
The neolithic people still had weapons. I’m sure there was plenty violent conflict, we’d just call them raids and they were probably much less lethal. But thanks to technology like metal-working we’ve been able to scale-up our violence.
LikeLike
And it all comes down to fear – learning to face your fears and going beyond them – as you did in the Earth House. Apt name.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Now how to do we do THAT as a species?
LikeLiked by 1 person
Beats me – nice idea though.
LikeLiked by 1 person
We’d better figure it out fast.
LikeLike
” But thanks to technology like metal-working we’ve been able to scale-up our violence.” Eggg-zactly. Scaling up from the individual to the tribe to whole nations – all feeling the need to be macho – to kill their man to be a man. Gaws ‘Elp us all. Poem on this theme coming up in tomorrow’s blog.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m eager to read it!
LikeLike
I love learning more about faraway places. Thanks, Bart!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks for reading and your curiosity, Susi!
LikeLiked by 1 person
You’re welcome!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Pingback: Bartholomew’s Orkney Adventure – The Orkney News
On the ‘Ancient Stone Bothering’ FB site, someone posted about Grain Earth House, so I posted the following in the comments…. Re. Grain Earth House…….
http://www.spanglefish.com/berniesblog/blog.asp?blogid=16896
http://www.spanglefish.com/berniesblog/blog.asp?blogid=16903
http://www.spanglefish.com/berniesblog/blog.asp?blogid=16909
LikeLiked by 1 person
Such pleasant memories of Orkney. Maybe it’s for the best that I don’t live there otherwise I might go into Grain Earth House every weekend and then it wouldn’t be as special.
LikeLike
Or maybe, the way things are now, go in there and refuse to come out!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Now that’s a great idea!
LikeLiked by 1 person