Remembering Sycamore Gap

In the heart of our county you flourished alone, 

By our bleak, famous wall made of moss and stone.

In fair weather and foul you remained unbroken, 

A silent witness of tears, laughter and secrets unspoken. 

In peace and at war a lone sentinel you stood, 

As an emblem of hope, a true force for good. 

A wild image of the Northumberland known to the world, 

Be it bare branched in snow, or with jade leaves unfurled. 

In film, art and sculpture your likeness was known, 

For us Northerners, your image epitomised ‘home’.

Then a moment of madness, perhaps a prank or dare, 

Whatever the reasons, now the landscape lies bare. 

The void is relentless, a stark bow of sky, 

There is grief, there is anger, the pain of just why? 

You fell because of one man’s utter insanity, 

And no amout of remorse can undo this profanity. 

I’ve passed you so often, saw your dark silhoutte, 

But never paused to approach you, now a bitter regret. 

An opportunity gone, too little, too late, 

A hard lesson learned, to not procrastinate. 

I was endlessly rushing, too busy to stay, 

And I’m so sorry your watch has ended this way. 

You see I thought I had time, you’d be here forever, 

Now you’ve gone, and my ‘one day’ has spiralled to ‘never’. 

A poem by Sarah Rourke

As featured in This Is Northumberland 2022 (revised edition)