Donegal

Like a mother singing all her children home,
The wind danced over the mirrored water,
As I followed hills where chieftains roamed
And earls made flight from Britain’s slaughter.
 
The sun upon the ground gave light
And heather blossomed on the grassy mounds
And conquered land with ancient might;
That the piper and the bard resounds.
 
The crests of thatched and warmly cottages
Like golden light on snowy mountain crests
House fallen victims of tyrannous ages
Who have fought and died without regrets.
 
To think that this was once our home.
The sea and sun and western shore.
The violet flower and grassy domes
That I was nurtured to adore.
 
The songs and poems will never fulfil
The heavenly nature of this lovely land.
They cannot convey how remarkably beautiful
The waves are when they kiss the golden sand.
 
Leaving prints upon the beach
I walked with naked foot through water
And every step could be met with each
The footsteps of my father’s father.
 
The old cottage that we went to see
Was falling to time, to dust and decay.
It now holds only a fallen tree
From when my family made their way.
 
I think of him upon that ship
Watching the hills fade away to mist.
And holding on with mindful grip
To the sand the sea so sweetly kissed.
 
And through the tear that I now hold,
The heather threaded to be his pall.
As he made his way to a place more cold
To work the roads; a navvy’s a call.
 
It must have burned deep in his heart
To sail like a bird upon the wing
And with his treasured home, depart
To never hear the nestlings sing.
 
The flame remains and still cracks free
And when this place, my mind recalls
It swells and swelters deep within me.
I must return to Donegal.