Spoken by Amairgin the Gael as he first set foot in Ireland
The Mystery
I am the wind which breathes upon the sea,
I am the wave of the ocean,
I am the murmur of the billows,
I am the ox of the seven combats,
I am the vulture upon the rocks,
I am a beam of the sun,
I am the fairest of plants,
I am a wild boar in valor,
I am a salmon in the water,
I am a lake in the plain,
I am a word of science,
I am the point of the lance of battle,
I am the God who created in the head the fire.
Who is it who throws light into the meeting on the mountain?
Who announces the ages of the moon?
Who teaches the place where couches the sun?
(If not I)
Mark sent this “First Poem of Ireland” to me today in an email. Outside the sky is gray like the thick smoke from a large fire, yet the temperature is cold and the wind blows strong. It is a rainy Irish day in Santa Rosa. I was bemoaning in my mind how much I distain at living here, and how I’d love to move to some place like Las Vegas, where 5000 new people move a month. What exciting energy it must create, and great employment opportunities. A new life…a new place.
This weather tires me by February and I am ready for spring. And ready to move, but there is my son…and his daddy…that he loves. A problem that cannot be solved today, but Mark reaches out, across the miles, remembers how I love all things Irish, and reminds me that no one is an island who has friends. Such kindness always shocks me – I do not know why. That a man would remember what I love, and take the time to see to it that I experience it. Midwest men are so different than the men in California…so very different.
And old and dear friend of mine (June) is coming to visit me this weekend. She has the comedic edge of a professional stand up comedian, so I should enjoy some great laughs and be able to survive this latest rainstorm.
But spring…please hurry up.
Until next time-
C
