Poetry Workshop I

Beidh Gaeilge líofa agam.

I have sat many nights wanting to be who I am.

I have sat many days watching the Sun look down:

She knows not my tongue.

She knows not my face.

She knows not me.

She has seen ages rot into the Earth,

The manly mass which awaits an embrace.

He has held my steps,

Some ill, some strong.

He gave me my blood.

He gave me my breath.

I, yet, trample him without worry.

I wail not for his death, but for my money.

I wail not for his children, but for my own mistakes.

He lets whispers trail through his hair.

Whispers of life last night.

A past so divorced, yet so near.

A passed past passed passively,

And, I do not honour him.

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