Getting back to some of my roots today … The prompt is “County Cork”.
I probably came upon this one as I was researching Crowlegh Castle. It’s a great day to be Irish – ish.
I wrote this one a few years back in honor if my Crowleigh ancesters; it actually won a poetry prize during a Poetry Festival Ireland had. In addition, it was published in Literary Orphans.
Perhaps we lack our purpose
Because we have moved too far away
From our natural rhythms, we center
Our time around sitting
In an unnatural space
40 hours a week, telling ourselves
That a job made up is living
While our brains are hardwired
For hunting and gathering, for
Raising the young that now we leave
With others, Surprised at how we are
Disconnected from our own lives.
I am sure our Eire would wonder
If her children have become pixie-led
by the beauratic English.
We should have stayed
with the Tuatha de Danann, climbed and hid
In the mists of Corrán Tuathail
Nor should our children
Have sailed away, seeking other lands,
Seldom to return.
Eiru calls back to us at Galway
And Mayo, her face flashing then disappearing
Against the florescent haze.