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.

Advertisements

13 comments on “SANCTUARY

  1. arekhill1 says:

    Nicely wrought, Sr. Muse. Happy Saint Patrick’s Week!

    Like

  2. ladysighs says:

    I read it several times…. more than twice. Gentle and thoughtful poem.

    Like

  3. mistermuse says:

    Sure now, and yer a sweet lass fer sayin’ so. As for the poem, guess I’m just a sentimentalist at heart.

    Like

  4. mistermuse says:

    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.”

    Like

  5. 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.

    Like

    • mistermuse says:

      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.

      Like

  6. Mélanie says:

    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! 🙂

    Like

  7. mistermuse says:

    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).

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s