Something of his sad freedom

As he rode the tumbril Should come to me, driving,

Saying the names

Tollund, Grauballe, Nebelgard.

Watching the pointing hands Of country people,

Not knowing their tongue.

Out here in Jutland In the old man-killing parishes

I will feel lost, Unhappy and at home.

The Tollund Man,

Seamus Heaney

•••

Human Size. 

Carbon Polymer, Charcoal, Ply Backing.