"IS IT YER SELF THAT'S IN IT?"
( For good auld Bud )

'Howya? '
said the stone

(in a thick Irish accent)

'How's it goin'? '
said another stone
to the left of the other one.

'So, you decided to
come home? '
sneered a passing breeze.

'Ah...leave him be! '
shushed a familiar tree

& an auld sod agreed:
'Let bygones be bygones! '

There I was
thinking in French

& gesticulating
in Italian.

'Are ya...sure...
...it's himself? '

enquired a changing cloud.

'Sure...I'd know him anywhere! '
spoke up the road
that led in(& out) of here.

'Ah, Jaysus...
...he's cryin''

sniffled an old
gone-to-seed house

& then, it started
crying itself.

"This place grew me! '
sobbed my tears

& now
(somehow)

either it or I
had changed.

Only the ghosts of ghosts
remained.

*

Going back to Ireland is often referred to as going 'back to the auld sod' and so it is that I have the landscape of my childhood question me as I remain silent in the face of fixed places such as houses melt into literally thin air and I walk through what is there but isn't there anymore. I am my own living ghost.

The Irish greeting of 'Is it yourself that's in it? ' always amused me as if the greeter was making sure that your corporeal shape hadn't indeed been taken over by the Devil and that you were now a man possessed! If the answer was 'Sure...aren't ya seeing me with your own two eyes ya ejeet or is it blind ya are or what! ' then that indeed was you. If a deep dark voice that smelt of sulphur boomed 'I am the Lord of the Underworld earthling and you will rot in Hell if you don't buy me a pint! ' then it was more likely the Devil himself or somebody with a wicked sense of of humour. Anyway and anyhow the Devil you know was always better than the Devil ya didn't know. Better to err on the side of caution rather than be having a hell of a time in the place down below.