Donegal

A green silk Atlantic laps the stones 
Panning for quartz; behind a deformed island 
In the scorched haze, a seal's lamentation. 
I've come looking for myth in Malin Head. 

A country bar, propped up by men in work-worn 
Tweed, white hair nicotined - my English grammar 
Noticed, nudged -  a strange one this woman alone 
Curled on beaches, reading Kavanagh. 

The hills of Donegal are on fire, red 
Waves and black smoke against a sunset's fever. 
I hitch a ride with Robert and Brigid 
Who love across Faith's bitter frontier. 

They ask and watch the answers on my face 
Mirrored in the rear view glass. 
 

Archaeology in Ireland 

for Rose O'Farrell 

I came to dig for the secrets 
of my mother's long silences. 
I asked the grass for patience 
as I entered the valley's 
brooding loop of water 
and remembered my mother's 
fierce temper and dark humour. 

In this lime washed cottage 
visited a girl with shadows 
in the hazel eyes and hair. 
The strong straight back 
drove in the pony trap to Mass 
with freckled peasant hands 
shaped into an arc of prayer. 

In country dance halls 
my father courted her 
foxtrotting her to the fiddle. 
He loved the craic 
but in later life when drunk 
sneered at her plain ways, 
the Liverpool way she spoke. 
The back stayed straight, 
the confidence broke. 

Her people, my people worked 
this stony soil on steep fields 
where the farm yards genuflect 
in shadow once the sun has fled. 
They crossed the water 
settling in the choked cities 
at the tail end of the empire 
that had made them emigrants 
grafting for booty 
to free their children from want. 

She thrust us into schooling 
the food from which she'd fasted. 
Owning nothing 
she left as her inheritance 
one diamond ring 
and random bits of Irishness 
wrapped in the gift of Faith 
to wear as warm coat 
vivid dress and straitjacket. 

In old age she despaired 
at all the prayers fallen 
on stony ground unheard; 
grief ran like a fault line 
through her to me and back 
to a place we once belonged 
loved but also hostile 
where I try to catch an old song 
in the wind like one beguiled.