Insider Knowledge (Poetry)

I’ve the spirit of the lonely land
inside of me
it lives in me — I breathe
its still damp air
and feel its tree roots stretch and claw
the blood-sap surge
the landscape of my heart
beats wild and free.

I hear the rhythms in the night
that echo far
drift out across the pulsing
wind-raked bog
those deep dark-cradled sighs
escaping dream by dream
they bubble up — born fey
ghost-fish or frog.

I sense the rough grass growing
underneath my foot
the edge that saws the breeze
into a tune
Oh Ireland these are acres I
know well of you
my thoughts run high as tides
tugged by your moon.

I’m haunted by a rawness
cut in memory
of empty vistas whispering
of home
those shapes and shadows mapping out
a timeless love
the inner starchart inked
in every bone.