Sometimes you hear a painting or a landscape before you see it. Walking across this Planters field with its old homestead in “[t h e] n o r t h [e r n] [o f] Ir e l a n d” (thank you Mr P Ó Tuama) with the moon at its fullest I can hear Michael Longley. ‘When they had eaten together, it pleased them both To stare at each other’s beauty as lovers might, Achilles built like a god, Priam good-looking still And full of conversation, who earlier had sighed: I get down on my knees and do what must be done And kiss Achilles’ hand, the killer of my son.’ Michael Longley, Ceasefire T here cannot be anything more to say
