Island

Melted languages

Languish a wild

Mix of black and white

Yellow and pink

Talking and whispers

He she they him it

Screaming and crying

Echoing songs in

our one tongue

Embracing our words

Our thoughts

Our dreams

Of wild nights

And mellow days

Wandering

And wondering

Where the end

Meets the line

Beyond the oceans

Grasp

Unreachable on the

Islands grass holding

Hands with nettles

Dancing round

Broken thorns

Of red cheeked roses

Cherishing bodhran

Hammered alcoholics

Bending notes from

Rusty harps

Dating polished fiddle

Players clay stained

Arthritic bows

Naked toes stripped

Of failed lusts

And forgotten play

And tender loves

And stolen rocks

Molten hearts

Swept in wind wild

Foam

The Atlantic yells

While the Irish Sea

Whines

Our nature to the west

Our sighs to the east

Our brethren to north

The beached sand south

Laments in glory

Slagging and shagging

Dragging and laughing

While beyond

In a turf bog vacuum

Death awaits but once

While in our smiles

Of misery or joy

The days slide behind

On the abacus of living

An infinite life ahead

Each breath a step

From wonder to

Beauty to wisdom

To who we are

Memories renewed

Of ancient celts

And wild hounds

And wooden boats

Of clay

Frankie writing of who it is to be Irish