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I am this Ireland
I am the hazel wood forest
where unexpected poetry pours out
from the mouth of a simple farmer.
I am the fairy who wakes you up at night
dreaming you are falling out of bed.
I am the slabs of limestone not kind to your feet.
and the patch of grass you become suspicious of.
I am the herd of wild goats
who stand motionless on the burren.
I am the mist that permeates your soul
in the sinkhole of your existence.
I am the island where stone fences
can&Mac226;t even stop the black stallion
from galloping over green pastures.
I am the cliffs that drop 100 feet
into a black turbulent sea.
I am the bold white cross
standing upright toward the brilliant sunrise.
I am the small secret cave
where desire is born from moss and fern.
I am the song of the healing waters
running over your grateful hands.
I am the longing that tugs at your heart,
the longing to return home to Ireland.
-Terri Glass |
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