Wuthering Heights
I wandered across the moor,
Intrigue guiding my heavy steps,
And history and memories pushed my journey on.
The ghosts of Kathy and Helathcliff flew above me all around
And they laughed and danced in the night sky,
Scars hidden in animated death.
The mist was not lifting
And the air was cold and damp
And in the brightest moonlight
The three headstones rose silently from the earth.
The middle one was grey, and half buried in the heath,
The second was half hidden and moss was creeping up its foot.
The third was large and frightening and noticeably still bare.
I sat and listened mesmerised as the ghosts made known their pain,
And the moths fluttered among the heath,
And the wind breathed through the grass,
And wondered how peaceful slumbers
Would ever be for the sleepers in that quiet earth.
Claire Bolden McGill is a British expat who lived in Maryland for three years and moved back to the UK in August 2015. Claire wrote about her life as a British expat on the East Coast and now works in travel and hospitality PR in the UK. She still finds time to blog about her repatriation and the reverse culture shock that ensued – and she still hasn’t finished that novel, but she’s working on it. You can contact Claire via twitter on @clairebmcgill or via her blog From America to England.