The next town west of Dingle is Boston.
Too early here to break ground.
Only my dreams are green.
Molly, Marie and Colleen
dance in the ashes of
Danes, Normans and Saxons.
Eyes of blue,
eyes of green,
eyes of brown,
will weep for wild geese.
Heart of Cuchulain,
heart of Padraic,
heart of Brian Boru
will bleed for all the oppressed.
Words of Synge,
words of Joyce,
words of Heaney,
will pipe and ring the soul-songs.
Blood from the hands of Michael Collins
stirred into peat ash.
Make a mark upon my face.
The Moon is Danu's bodhrán.
My eyes, my heart, my words,
blend into her tears, her soil, her soft gaze.
Click here to read about the discovery of a Celtic tomb from 2600 years ago.