Children of Lir

Where you come in at is where you stay
The children of Lir are mute as they fly over lakes 
and see swans reflected in their obsidian depths.
The world doesn’t turn on a pin
Decades have passed in silent gliding.

The hated King in the coffin at the front
Will always be there.
The daughter silently kissing the coffin
Is a Greek tragedy
And we are the chorus.

As she spins her yarn
of dandelion clocks, 
weaves and sews shirts 
in voiceless vow.

Her promise, 
to make good the transformation
at the predestined time.

Speaking not a word
in the face of accusation
As her own children are stolen.

The stake and pyre are banked up
A whole day
and evening has passed now.

Five men in gossamer shirts walk from the funeral with their sister
singing The Green and Red of Mayo quietly to themselves 
putting out the singed hem of her gown.

The child with one good arm 
and one swan’s wing
Swings on cross gates.



Image wiki commons: Achill Head Co Mayo 1890
20 bar Gate Newmarket



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