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(C)2023 ElizaBeth Coira. Wandering the coastline of Ireland, gathering seashells, beckoned by the call of the sea.
She throws the stones
In the fire
Place of grandma past
She can’t help
The tears stream down
Covering her face
Her cousin calls
He’s lost sight
Of her very presence
Wondering why
She’d sit and cry
Round nothing but a ruin
To know the land
To feel the land
Its tributes running through my veins
With head and heart
All filled up
By stone and green mountain top
To yearn to roll
In riverines
The caress of meandering hills and valleys
To long to melt
Right in to
The real life paradise before my eyes
Ireland
Why do I know you
Ireland
Why do I cry
Ireland
Why do I love you
As though you were ever my home
Everything is coming
And I am starting today
I go hike through forests, spanning mountains
Stretch out in a blanket of snow
Absorb the sun between gray clouds
Stumble, twist, turn through rocky trails
Stare awe-struck, dumb-founded at the mouth of a cave
Wondering what awaits us, on the inside
It’s shallow, carved out of a weathered white stone
House and host to wanderers, past and now
I wander down the path of mammoth hunters
Only to find the dominion of a king
Medieval ruins, knight’s follies
Haunted troughs, misty memories
The trees stand silent, guardians
Of earth and all our secrets
So many take their troubles to the forest
To re-emerge full of peace and serenity
I guess that’s what we’re doing here
Seeking peace, healing, piece of mind
A mind beyond time, beholden to none
We have much to learn in the trees