Driving up, over
and around the mountain.
The walled road echoes
with the sound of thunderous vee-eights
and zinging turbo sixes
Let it be my team or driver who wins!
The ghosts of thousands
of prayers of the faithful linger,
haunting these hills, grassy slopes
This is my first time here but if I squint
I can see the spirits of myriad tents and sleeping bags.
The empty cans, cups and paper bags
flicker in and out of my mind's eye.
It is all so so quiet and sedate now
as I crawl around the track in my family hatchback,
on these hallowed roads where heroes flew...
but I honour them in my way.
...and I add my layer of folklore
to the rich tapestry of this revered place.
I have paid my respects to this holiest of holy