ANSEO A TÁ TÚ
(YOU ARE HERE )

Spring had come
dressed the farm

in its best green.

Even the sky
wore the latest blue

a sort of shy
eternity.

Birds had been
perfectly positioned

after a great deal of thought
by whoever had put them

there.

Furrows crawled lazily
across the face of a field

glistening with a newness
that the day couldn't

help but be
excited by.

The trees were beside
themselves

madly in love
with time

who had been kind
to them for ages now.

Ballea lay
smiling before him

Even its very name
made his heart dance.

Even the very saying of it
made his soul swoon.

"Anseo a tá tú!"
he says to himself.

The Irish sweetening
each loved syllable.

"You are here!"
he reminds himself

in case one of the birds only
spoke English.

And never was the boy
who had come back

in the shape
of a man

as delighted
as he.

"Anseo a tá tú. . .indeed!"
his ghost smiles to his self.

*

I was wishing that in his dying my father would return  to the little farm in Cork and complete his life cycle by being the ghost of the little boy who adored the earth and sky of his native place. I wanted to hold his hand and bring him here... even if only in words. Da...you are here! You have come home...walk into the light.