Paudriag spoke to me though from afar
his voice both close and quiet,
reminding me of the green sloping land
and north the sea, shining and alive
with ancient music.
There is a place for him
and many gone before
who traveled to America
where they’d never rest,
returned now to Tir Na Nog,
forever young in the old land,
looking over the ocean,
soil deep and wet with rain,
full of peace.
Reading of “Tir Na Nog” with music by James Galway and the Chieftains
The Gaelic green calls to the wanderer to return to the land of myst.
Ah, Don my friend, descendent of Oison the poet and son of Fionn Mac Cumhail of the Fianna, passing his poems down through the ages!
Don, this is lovely, deep, haunting. It causes me to wonder if you feel a pull to return yourself.
How interesting that I long to return to a place I’ve never been….at least in person. While I pay homage to the other colors, my soul is green.
Today, I am Elizabeth O’Donnell O’Driskell as I am the whole year ’round. In my heart, I am home.
Top of the morning to you Donald O’Hynes
Such a yearning…
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WxLTuzx82XM
This strikes a chord – the mystery, the water alive with music, the rolling green hills, our longing for the peace of true home. Thank you for this moment of communion.
I pent some time in Ireland, drifting from Donegal to Galway, back in early sixties, before hearing the call of America – where indeed I found my home which I take now everywhere I go beyond borders cultures or boundaries, a free spirit.
Happy St. Patrick’s Day, Don!
Wonderful photo of your folks, Don. Fond memories.
Hello, Don- and happy St. Pat’s Day, a day late. Beautiful poem of your mother and father’s wedding.
Attached is my favorite Danny Boy rendition by Barry Moore, later to call himself Luka Bloom. The father sending his son off for a better live. I may have sent it to you in an earlier year.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UZKzxyrHz3k
A bit of history from one of my three walkabouts in Ireland. I was staying at a B&B in the northern suburbs of Dublin, hosted a lovely older woman. She went out to play cards each night, and I would for the Dublin pubs. She had a wonderful library and we would talk books till two a.m. on our return each evening. I mentioned Michael Collins, leader of the 1916 revolution. She told me that the revolution was plotted in the very room we were sitting, and that her father was part of it. She said that Michael Collins used to sit the chair I was in, with her as a little girl sitting on his knee.
All the best, tom
Don, thank you my Irish brother, for once again bringing to focus our sacred homeland……