I was moved to upload this because of the relevance of Bugarach to the end-of-the-world prognostications for today, 21st December, 2012.

Bugarach,

Whose rocks

burn pink

in the sunset

of a fading sky.

 

Conversation frozen

for one half-moment,

heads turned,

eyes narrowed,

hearts miss

a beat

In memory of ancestors

whose feet

signed this landscape.

 

Blood oozing

through grey-sharp crag,

sandal-sole worn

to a smooth tourist beat.

 

Dog-hot air

hammers down

on hatless pilgrims,

voyeurs

who know not what they view.

 

Below Cucagnan’s stony hills

a peasant sweats his labour

In a well-tended desert,

nods the time of day

at our passing.

 

We leave more quickly

than is polite,

anxious

for the half-shade

medieval alleys

on the hill.

 

A lizard flicks

his torpid way

by green pools

where, once,

a river ran,

beside the spiked bamboo,

seeking

its maritime destiny.

 

Julian Jordon, 2003