As I stood and pondered silently how futile it all has been
The homework neglected, life’s vissitudes took over.
The points to access the Pearly Gates well beyond my reach
Should I fail the final test. I would seek a last request.
I would choose the path to Cuilcaghs mountains peaks
And gaze upon the embryonic Shannon en route to Limerick
of the Treaty’s
The Erne Valley in Fermanagh’s green heartland
Leitrim’s stony hills sloping to Lough Allen’s banks.
I would follow the old road through the woods now smothered
By heath and brine
I would watch the purple heather turn to grey
and in mid summer see again its purple plumage
The wild furze in brillant hue.
The lambs gambolling on the hillocks
The badger, fox and raven hunting for their share.
At eventide I would hear the song of the Curlew,
The Peewits gentle cry, the moorhens mating call.
I would traverse the Shannon’s banks at dusk and watch the
brown trout make ripples
As they sought food in pools unchanged by time and going
I would hear the otter whistle for his mate as the water hen
kept her distance.
I would visit the spirit the old thatched cottages
Where once the hearth burned brightly.
Jigs and reels were danced, barrels of liquor demolished.
As the grey dawn approached with misty solitude on the hills.
I would rejoin the once young card players who shuffled the pack.
Whilse the Ace of hearts rested uneasily on shaky knees.
I would visit the lone bush by the river where I dreamed my
I would walk again the country lanes where pledges were made
And sometimes broken in the soft moonlight.
This is my land, it’s there I would be.