Kyrie Purple blush of sky and lilac drooping by the greenhouse. The last heat of day rests in the grass, and from the shadows under the conifers, there comes a moaning, a pain riddling from the undergrowth, a voice caught out after dark. And my mind, closed off from sight and the body’s reading of the world, convinces me it is the crying of a … Continue reading ‘Kyrie’ by Seán Hewitt