Farewell to Ireland (We’re Not Coming Home)
Off you sailed, old man,
Beyond the Horizon,
In search of what, exactly?
And now we know,
You didn’t find it on the open seas.
Under sails of shame,
The Emperor Jones himself,
The Hairy Ape escaped,
And I don’t think we mourned him (too much),
Or not at first,
Or not for long at least…
And All God’s Chillun Got Wings, old man;
Yours aren’t the first to be used.
Our hearts are strangers to us.
Even Lazarus Laughed at faults bequeathed,
Sins we can’t (yet) fully lay down to die…
And surely, under all this, The Iceman Cometh?
Days without love,
Days Without End.
Bound East for Cardiff and a last good bye?
No strength, old man.
Under a Moon for the Misbegotten we sit
And ponder apologies given,
Apologies never received…
It’s a Long Day’s Journey Into Night, old man,
And there is no (Long) Journey Home.
Desire Under the Elms,
And arms of better men,
Saved your children from existential Recklessness.
You were The First Man……
Childhood is but a Strange Interlude only.
Mourning Becomes Electra, perhaps,
Laughter becomes Irish children.