On Tintagel's rugged shores, Arthur has returned.
Molten bronze, larger than when in life
He should not be there.
He lives in fantasy, a story loved by millions
For many, Tintagel is a sacred space
It should be held that way for the future.
What are English Heritage thinking of?
Money, more tourists to take away the magic
The majesty that is Cornwall.
Personally, I cannot speak about 
The face carved on the cliff wall
This does not represent the might that is Merlin
His magic is in every rock, 
Every wave that washes across the shore
These are the things that live in time, 
Never to be forgotten
Tintagel should be left wild, as he is.
Go to the beach late at night as Jaye and I have done
Sit awhile, feel the raw energy
The dark caves whisper, I am still here...

© Anita Dawes 2021