Watermarked
There are places in Wales I don’t go: reservoirs that are the subconscious of a people – R S Thomas

Cofiwch Dryweryn, that two-word protest,
white on blood-red background, landscaped in green,

mural on a ruined Llanrhystud cottage,
sixty miles from Llyn Celyn, where raptors spiral round

and around, looking for the easy kill. Dissent drowned out.
Brooding dark water above the drowned

post office, farms and houses, the chapel submerged, the
concreted over cemetery, only eight bodies exhumed,

no gravestones left standing. The school demolished,
children’s paintings left hanging on the walls,

all swallowed by the lake. Silence is here, but no peace.
Cofiwch Lanwddyn hefyd, drowned by the dammed

Vyrnwy valley, Cofiwch Nantgwllt hefyd, the chapel where converts
were baptised in the river, all dammed and drowned now

for these are blackened waters, except for droughts
exposing silted wrecks of entombed buildings.

Cofiwch Dryweryn, that two-word poem,
so often vandalised, defaced by a swastika,

a white power sign, Elvis, LOL, always restored,
its indelible declaration resurrected elsewhere

flooded over milk stands, bridges, bus shelters, beach huts.

Elizabeth Wilson Davies (@LizWilsonDavies) is a poet from Pembrokeshire in west Wales, United Kingdom. She has an MA in Creative Writing and a PhD in Post-colonial Literatures and her poetry has been widely published in journals and has won or been highly commended for competitions including Poetry Wales and the Bridport Prize.