Walking the hills of Ireland
today
that dull, achey longing
at long last
dulled—
“I am here!”
—
I was there,
and the part
of me still there
now implores:
“Your longing for that land?
“Bring it to this land,
“Wherever you are.
“Yell it as high as it cries,
“Whisper it when it can’t
any longer.”
And I know the birds
and the moss
and the water…
And that is enough.
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