CALLING IRELAND

She left when Cobh
was still Queenstown,
wild, unbedded poet,
patriot, and dreamer,
and never returned.

I return
for her.

When I call you, Ireland,
I mean the land
and not the State,
which didn't yet exist.
I mean green hills
and cliffs and
exiled islands
that know only
the sea.
I mean the whole
island, one,
and not only 
the single county
that she knew.
I mean a sad
and wrenching history
that I am powerless
to forget.

Know me now,
recognize the blood
that ran in her veins
and runs now in mine.

I summon you
by a last glimpse
and a first.

I summon you
by a lost love.

I summon you
by a picture hat
taking wing on the wind.

I summon you
by her verses.

I summon you
by her tears
and her laughter.

I summon you
by a pebble
on the beach.

I summon you
by all
that is beautiful.

April 2 2016