Thoughts on Ireland…
Posted in : Uncategorised on by : Brendan Walsh Comments:
Ireland is a spiritual land,a land rich in myths and legend. A land that reared the druid the warrior and the story teller .A land that is envied by the world for its literary giants.The landscape tells the story,but not yet told, of the mystic people.A land still haunted by the ghosts of the happy and sorrowful times.When giants and wolf, elks and bears fairies and harpists intermingled through the ancient oak forests.This is a land that honored its dead and were secure of the afterlife.
A land that felt plentiful and famine,rosy cheeked children playing in the hay fields and the same children skeletal ,starving and dying on the side of the road.Stories that inspired the Irish poet William Butler Yates to compose the haunting poet; The stolen child.
Come with me O human child ,to the waters and the wild
With a fairy hand in hand
for the world so full of weeping
than you can understand (Pub. 1889) (Willian Butler Yates)
A million souls stalk this land asking for forgiveness .The God of the time blamed the poor for the famine ,the God has as yet to forgive them. This lush green land and its fated cattle belong to the rich,as they did in 1845 when the ‘grim reaper’ left behind his ‘lone bush’ tombstone,God was supping with the rich in those times. But the Irish has not forgotten,they pay there homage to the Christian God ,but the echo travels well in this misty land of a summer night and whispers of a long ago.
as the prophet,ballad singer Luke Kelly sang in his rendering of Patrick Kavanaghs Raglan Road ;
“I gave her the secret sign,that’s known by artists that I have known true God of song and stone “ the references to the by gone time.
As a parting gift Yates left instructions to be buried in a small Irish Christian grave yard and on the simple stone that stands over the remains he asks to be carved ,and I for one have no doubt as to what he meant.
Cast a cold eye on life and death ,horseman pass by.