He walked alone with the future packed in his rail thin body down the long road to Cork, in his bloodstream my life, my daughters

What grows to the light will not be deterred by the buried emotion of history’s trauma, the path to the sun having roots deep set

The sky breaks open above the valley, birds fly out from their hunker, buds swell on the flowering trees and the wet drape of winter

Somewhere in the deep forest with only a slender trail beyond the reach of roads, old growth trees stand in silence as the mountain creek