I COME FROM THE LAND OF GREEN
I come from the land of green
they say my ancestors were the
thoughts of trees
swaying and painting the sky
they say I come from four green
fields
where the potato imploded in on
itself
leaving thousands dead, while
the English ate our food.
They say I come from a country
of hedgerow schools
where children learned to write in
their native tongues
scribbling in the dirt by the
side of the road.
My tongue has the gift of gab
in a language not my own
I come from a land of tall
stones
where Christians tried to banish
the snake
only there were no snakes
we worshipped the secret heart
of stones
because time was convoluted
not asleep on its side.
I come from the stones
that hold secrets only they know
Daughter of the rebel Corkonians
I know I come from a crazy
family
my mother is really crazy, no
kidding,
but that’s another story.
My father lost his heart
before he was born, my
inheritance.
I know I would like to ask my
great-grandfather
what he whispered into the ears
of the wild red mare
to tame her. Why she bit my
great-grandmother
so as to make my grandmother
afraid of horses
I wish I could see them driving
the cattle
between the summer bonfires
to make them fertile
our ancestral farm named after
the golden strength of oaks,
Coomanore.
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