Going Back (Poetry)

where the sky doesn’t change, nor the light on the hill
glowing warm against rock, and the landscape hangs still
as a painting by God, the spectacular view
spreading wide on a canvas of infinite blue,
with the colours of earth blending softly to ease
the shadowy heart in a quiet stand of trees

where the mountains look on, their benign silhouette
like the profile of peace — a calm resonance set
in each hollow, rain-carved — that immaculate face
reflecting the mystical essence of place,
while tracing their flight on the water’s smooth skin,
the swallows of memory circle and skim

where Gouganebarra gleams and the yellow gorse burns
a bright welcoming beacon, the exile returns
to the land of his birth, the missed comfort of home —
that ache always with him in blood and in bone.
Now his ashes lie scattered, his spirit’s at rest
where the sun of his boyhood sinks into the west.

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Gouganebarra Lake, Co.Cork
Ref: W.A. Poucher’s Ireland
Pg.26