i’m irish?

i’m irish.

i’m irish!

a few generations ago
my people were irish
what a wealth of stories that implies

did they weep with joy
coming to maine
because the land
and the weather felt like home?

did they smile
to see flowers on the meadow
cows lined up for milking
low bawling heard
in the morning
just before dawn?

did they cry
when they stepped off the boat?
did they weep and kiss the ground in thanksgiving?
did they miss someone in ireland?

there were children now to be looked after
new husband waiting
a new life
were they frightened?
were they exhilarated?

did they quaver about it
or just dive in and get things done?

the love of horses and the sea
the need oh the need for rhythm
the heart and soul of a poet
these are gifts of the irish ancestry

and the drinking?
well… probably that too
for what it taught me i am grateful
and grateful to be done…

[RESEARCHER NOTE:  Technically speaking, I am of Ulster-Irish descent, which means that our people were actually more likely to be family members of a displaced Scottish border lord (think Lorna Doone)… but that’s a poem for another day…]

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