Ireland, poetry

The Aran Islands

The cliffs forever haunt me,

The symmetry, the lines,

It gives my heart a feeling,

The words are hard to find


As I sail beside them to my destination

All my troubles are swept aside

My mind remembers moments

The many happy times


Singing, laughing and reeling.

Stealing glances, in circles of song

Whilst sinking beers, caught up amidst the revelry

I’d often miss my song


So many carefree summers

Setting off from Doolin Peer

To the Aran islands a wandering

Where I could disappear


Dia dhuit the chosen native greeting

Called out with a nod and salute

As the islanders make their way

On their regular commute


Watching mothers at windows

So focused on the open sea

For signs of the curraghs with their husbands and sons

Coming home to them safely


The life of an aran islander

The simplicity and the sculptured stone

With the sea and the harsh realities

To an outsider seems so honest yet alone


This beauty has ensnared me

The islands, this sacred trinity of three

Has captured my soul

That’s why I call it my spiritual home

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