IS TUSA...MO THEACH RÚNDA BEAG
(You Are...My Little Secret House)
my house
a hedge
on my uncle's farm
that only existed
in summer
holiday land
In terms of time
it is the year
called 1963
but that is neither
here nor there
for this is the timeless time
of a small boy who
wishes to be
invisible
found when falling
from a tree
into a fairy tale
hedge of many
years standing
thick and tangled with time
door
?
there is no door
one has
to beat
one's way in
the only door is
pain
and determination
endure the sting
of nettle
the scratch of briar
crying is
the only thing
not allowed
burrs clinging
to curls
and geansaí
transforming you
into a wild
creature
dock leaves stand near by
to take the sting
out of things
the hedge
closing
behind you
but once inside
it blossoms out into
a makeshift palace
that only
a child could
cherish
a hedgehog
keeps
house
the other
occupants
various creepy crawlies
sunlight now
and then
comes to visit
sometimes
the rain
drops in
gossiping in
drips
and drabs
a roof of bird song
and green
sunlight
a wall of pig squeals
and chicken clucks
moos and barkings
I a creature
amongst
other creatures
sharing this
the same
moment
grateful
I am
for their acceptance
oh I must go. . .
a butterfly
needs to talk to me
Feb 1, 2022
Feb 1, 2022 at 5:53 PM UTC
IS TUSA...MO THEACH RÚNDA BEAG
(You Are...My Little Secret House)
my house
a hedge
on my uncle's farm
that only existed
in summer
holiday land
In terms of time
it is the year
called 1963
but that is neither
here nor there
for this is the timeless time
of a small boy who
wishes to be
invisible
found when falling
from a tree
into a fairy tale
hedge of many
years standing
thick and tangled with time
door
?
there is no door
one has
to beat
one's way in
the only door is
pain
and determination
endure the sting
of nettle
the scratch of briar
crying is
the only thing
not allowed
burrs clinging
to curls
and geansaí
transforming you
into a wild
creature
dock leaves stand near by
to take the sting
out of things
the hedge
closing
behind you
but once inside
it blossoms out into
a makeshift palace
that only
a child could
cherish
a hedgehog
keeps
house
the other
occupants
various creepy crawlies
sunlight now
and then
comes to visit
sometimes
the rain
drops in
gossiping in
drips
and drabs
a roof of bird song
and green
sunlight
a wall of pig squeals
and chicken clucks
moos and barkings
I a creature
amongst
other creatures
sharing this
the same
moment
grateful
I am
for their acceptance
oh I must go. . .
a butterfly
needs to talk to me
