who gave you the right
to collect other people’s misery?
heartaches and tears,
are not yours to own.
don’t you dare take my name,
it is yours no more;
not my life, not my soul,
not my home.
tá m’ainm! tá mo bhaile! tá m’anam seo!
with sweet voice,
and deft fingers,
you rewrite the pages,
to suit some plan of your own.
but my name? and his? and his?
our county, our place, our home?
stand upon your lonely ridge,
gaze down towards this fort,
and see:
taking others’ names is dangerous
when you don’t know what they mean.
