When Being Not Sensible is the Right Thing to do.

A Windy Wander on Inch Strand
by Sarah Robinson


These are insane times. Our inherent state of transience is at the forefront for a lot of us. Conflict, climate, resource, COVID, the seismic shift in political positioning across the globe, ageing, all creating an overwhelming confluence of fear. A lot of us are in a deep state of anxiety, about what future, if any, we may have.

We all need to find a way of not being buried by it all – distraction, escapes, “living in the moment”, keeping close to each other, accepting our position of  “passing through”, gratitude for “what has been” and “what is”.

During a smashing week of a writing week in Annamaghkerrig, with the Bealtaine Writers, I met a painter, Sarah Robinson, and looked at some of the work she was making. I fell in love with this piece – another painting on the walls of a house I no longer own was not on the cards. Though, maybe, just maybe, it is exactly what was needed to contradict our downward slide. Anyway, I love her work and am very happy to have this piece to admire and be nourished by. And, of course, I wrote about it.

So read, enjoy, admire the painting, pass it on and send me feedback.


A Windy Wander at Inch Strand

Painting by Sarah Robinson


I am in front of you - waiting

waiting to be invited in

Gaze and wait - wait and gaze – intently

looking to find my entrance


Your yellowed beach - staccatoed along the sea

reaches to a horizon of foothills

 - below greyed clouded sunshined sky -

vary climated by the hour - moisture streaked


And - as if the earth upheaved

you are visibly map located -

firmly placed beneath your dunes

and hollows - grounded as it were


The artist is placed here by signature -

otherwise no sense - no trace - of a creator

Sunwatered sky - grey darkened hills

speak themselves down to us as conversation


Gentle moving sea - soft sand beach

respond in kind building dialogue

and all the time your grounding marks

label you - Carne Kilfenora Dysart Rathkeel


Peter Clarke