William, sitting across the corner of the table from me, poured a shot of Jameson (not the first) into my glass. "Now," he said, settling back into his chair, "I want to hear you say, 'I forgive the British.'"

William Murphy, a fine man, is the husband of my dear cousin Nano. We were sitting in their house in Midleton, East Cork. The year was 2016, and it was my first trip to Ireland.

He wanted me to say that I forgave the British for all the terrible things they had done in Ireland. I think William knew, or at least intuited, that my grandmother, who had left Ireland as a young woman and lost three brothers to tuberculosis because of the harsh conditions imposed by the British, had been fierce and implacable on the subject, and had instilled those feelings into me when I was a boy.

I knew where William was coming from. We don'r want any more troubles like that. We want to get on with life, and put all that behind us.

But my grandmother had taught me too well. I was carrying wounds, the wounds of all Ireland, from before I was born. Those wounds had not healed, did not know how to heal. I guess William was trying to help me to heal them, as they had all had to try to do.

Every emotion went through me. I wanted to satisfy William by saying the words, but those words would not come out, any more than they would have come out from my grandmother. Finally, after a bit more Jameson, I said,"I don't forgive the British of my grandmother's day for the terrible things that they did, but I forgive the British of today, who have done nothing."

This apparently satisfied William, and he let me off the hook. His daughter asked me if I would ever consider visiting Northern Ireland. She said she had done so, and it was very strange to see the red postboxes and all that. I thought about her question, and then I told her no, I would not go there. But I knew that if I had been raised in Ireland, I would have gone there as a young man, and probably would not have come back alive.

itsula nvlise ulinawi amayeli (translation)

itsula nvlise ulinawi amayeli didla
ulasitsaneta elohi nidvlenvda.
agvyi, itsula alenidohise inv
uyvtlv hawina,
ani-senika navnige.
oniyagesdodi, tiyohali tsilv,
itsula ayasdise nvdane.

ᎢᏧᎳ ᏅᎵᏎ ᎤᎵᎾᏫ ᎠᎹᏰᎵ ᏗᏜ
ᎤᎳᏏᏣᏁᏔ ᎡᎶᎯ ᏂᏛᎴᏅᏓ.
ᎠᎬᏱ, ᎢᏧᎳ ᎠᎴᏂᏙᎯᏎ ᎢᏅ
ᎤᏴᏢ ᎭᏫᎾ,
ᎠᏂ-ᏎᏂᎧ ᎾᎥᏂᎨ.
ᎣᏂᏯᎨᏍᏙᏗ, ᏘᏲᎭᎵ ᏥᎸ,
ᎢᏧᎳ ᎠᏯᏍᏗᏎ ᏅᏓᏁ.


We came to Turtle Island
from the Darkening Land.
First we lived far in the north,
near the Seneca.
Later, like Lizard,
we sought the sun.

itsula nvlise ulinawi amayeli / ᎢᏧᎳ ᏅᎵᏎ ᎤᎵᎾᏫ ᎠᎹᏰᎵ

itsula nvlise ulinawi amayeli didla
ulasitsaneta elohi nidvlenvda.
agvyi, itsula alenidohise inv
uyvtlv hawina,
ani-senika navnige.
oniyagesdodi, tiyohali tsilv,
itsula ayasdise nvdane.

ᎢᏧᎳ ᏅᎵᏎ ᎤᎵᎾᏫ ᎠᎹᏰᎵ ᏗᏜ
ᎤᎳᏏᏣᏁᏔ ᎡᎶᎯ ᏂᏛᎴᏅᏓ.
ᎠᎬᏱ, ᎢᏧᎳ ᎠᎴᏂᏙᎯᏎ ᎢᏅ
ᎤᏴᏢ ᎭᏫᎾ,
ᎠᏂ-ᏎᏂᎧ ᎾᎥᏂᎨ.
ᎣᏂᏯᎨᏍᏙᏗ, ᏘᏲᎭᎵ ᏥᎸ,
ᎢᏧᎳ ᎠᏯᏍᏗᏎ ᏅᏓᏁ.

The Bench

Sitting on that bench,
I felt at home,
at peace.
I felt the presence
of my grandmother,
my great-aunt,
and my "other"
family.
I'm not rich enough
to live there,
but neither was
my grandmother,
whose foot left the ground
in Guileen,
and never returned.
She would
understand.

Natural I

Here is the crusty, old naturist/curmudgeon, in his own kitchen.

While we're on the subject of statistics, this poetry blog has had visits from approximately 70 countries. The top ten are: the United States, Canada, Uruguay, Germany, Russia, France, Ireland, Brazil, a Middle Eastern country whose privacy I will respect, and Ukraine, in that order. A country that almost made the list but didn't quite is Poland. Other important contributors of visits would be Portugal, Denmark, Spain, the United Kingdom, and Argentina. Recently there have been huge numbers of visits from Unknown Region (probably China, through VPN). I am happy to see that India is also becoming a significant visitor. Under-represented areas would be sub-Saharan Africa and the Andean parts of South America.

Thanks to everyone, in every country, who has visited this blog. If anyone tells you that no one reads poetry anymore, don't believe them.

I am happy to announce that this poetry blog has now received 44,000 visits since its inception. My hope is that it will reach 45,000 by the time it is two years old (in early October 2018). Thanks to all of you for your interest and support.

I you look at my profile on most social media platforms that I use (currently Google Plus, Facebook, Ello, and Diaspora), you will see that I describe myself as "poet, translator, naturist, and feminist, currently living in Uruguay." I think all of these are still true, although the last descriptor is subject to change. If all goes well in the midterm elections in the US (and by that I mean a Blue Wave), we will return, this time to Florida.

As you will probably have noticed, I'm still posting in Udugi. It's dear to my heart, so will no doubt continue. Please don't try to use it for serious privacy purposes. I am doing my best to teach it to those who want to learn, and in any case, a Cherokee speaker can understand most of it. There is nothing secret about it.

I'll talk to you all again when we reach 45,000. In the meantime, be well, and healthy, and happy.