GLENINAGH MOR
I suppose
it was the way
the pale light
fell across my scar
on the shores of Connemara
on that late afternoon
Or the way
the smell of
salty brine
lingered on my skin
after my thousandth baptism
in those icy seas
Or maybe
it was the way
my smile could never be
as whole hearted
as I tried to make it for you.
The wind lays curses
on my back
from Gleninagh Mor
and over the sleeping castle
I hear the gulls calling out
their liturgy
of my shattered ways.
I wonder which of these
made you leave,
which convinced you
to tear apart
the gossamer threads
of our long-stretched bonds
and disappear
over the barren hills
leaving no trace
of your soul
ever being here,
Nothing for me
but the memory
of your footsteps
leaving
on the wet limestone.
It’s all right
I tell my soul
It’s all right now
As long as I remember
It was real
I can live on.
I was once loved.