SANCTUARY
There is Irish blood, gift of immigrant flood,
Coursing through my veins;
There is no life whole without a stroll
Down ancestral memory lanes.
The father of my mother came,
O’er a century ago,
From Yeats’ “Terrible Beauty”
That I one day must know.
No man can come home again:
‘Tis not the days of yore;
But time can’t still the silent call….
“I hear it in the deep heart’s core.”
Then, at last, the moment came,
And I never felt so free
As the day I left to travel back
To my roots across the sea.
Now I, too, have seen and walked
The land time can’t forget;
Now I, too, have known and breathed
The peace that’s yearning yet.
And when I die tomorrow,
I’ll soft-greet eternity —
For I have been where the spirit’s at rest,
And I’ll return again….to Innisfree.
arekhill1 10:00 am on March 16, 2015 Permalink |
Nicely wrought, Sr. Muse. Happy Saint Patrick’s Week!
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mistermuse 1:52 pm on March 16, 2015 Permalink |
Same to you, Ricardo…. and may ye never run out of Stout all the days of yer life
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ladysighs 12:24 pm on March 16, 2015 Permalink |
I read it several times…. more than twice. Gentle and thoughtful poem.
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mistermuse 1:59 pm on March 16, 2015 Permalink |
Sure now, and yer a sweet lass fer sayin’ so. As for the poem, guess I’m just a sentimentalist at heart.
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Michaeline Montezinos 6:52 pm on March 16, 2015 Permalink |
I had forgotten you had Irish blood, mistermuse. See my last comment at the last posting of IN THE BEGINNING. I had sent you some greetings for this wonderful holiday of wearing of the green.
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mistermuse 7:37 pm on March 16, 2015 Permalink |
Green greetings to you as well, Michaeline. My Irish grandfather was part of the great wave of Irish immigrants to the U.S. (and elsewhere) over a century ago….as exemplified by this George Bernard Shaw quote: “I showed my appreciation of my native land in the usual Irish way by getting out of it as soon as I possibly could.”
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Michaeline Montezinos 1:28 am on March 17, 2015 Permalink |
By the way, your poem today softly touched my heart. It made me wish I could depart and vist my ancestral home. I liked knowing about your grandfather and why he left the Emerald Isle. I wonder why he left such a lovely land.
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mistermuse 7:42 am on March 17, 2015 Permalink |
The story of why millions of Irish left the lovely land of Ireland is a long and sad one, Michaeline, having mostly to do with British oppression, the Great Potato Famine of the mid-1800s (during which many starved to death), and poverty. Although I don’t remember my grandfather talking about it, I’m sure he left Ireland to seek a better life and earn a living.
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Mélanie 2:28 am on March 17, 2015 Permalink |
impressive and emotional – like une declaration d’amour to your roots… which does make sense to me as all the white Americans have European origins and I do believe that identity is very important – even though you’ve been American for several generations… – correct me if I’m wrong, please!
btw, have you ever been to Ireland?… we love it and the Irish are wonderful folks… there’s a funny joke about WHY the French, the Irish and the Scots have always liked each other and have gotten along for hundreds of years: ’cause we all have the same enemy – the Brits! 🙂
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Mélanie 2:30 am on March 17, 2015 Permalink |
P.S. désolée, I’ve cliked too fast on “post comment”: have a pleasant St-Patrick’s Day! P.S. my only brother-in-law’s name is… Patrick! 🙂
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mistermuse 8:02 am on March 17, 2015 Permalink |
Merci, Melanie. Yes. indeed, I’ve been to Ireland, love the country, and still have relatives there that I met during my visit 30+ years ago (and still keep in touch with). Those memories, of course, are the basis of my poem, which I actually wrote years ago and had published in a poetry magazine titled INNISFREE (from Yeats’ poem LAKE ISLE OF INNISFREE).
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Mélanie 5:17 am on March 19, 2015 Permalink |
aha, O.K. I’ve loved Yeats since highschool… 🙂
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LMG’s Internet Buffet – “The Yin Empress” | LMG comic updates 6:07 pm on March 18, 2015 Permalink |
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