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Taking it's name from Ariel's Irish ancesters, this explores a looking back from modern Irish emigrants. Or perhaps it is Ireland itself looking back and missing them? Whichever it is, It is meant to be read with an Irish lilt.
**************************************** ***************************

Perhaps we lack our purpose
Because we have moved too far away
From our natural rhythms, we center

Our time around sitting
In an unnatural space
Forty hours a week, telling ourselves

That a job made up is living
While our brains are hardwired
For hunting and gathering, for

Raising the young that now we leave
With others, Surprised at how disconnected
We are from our life.

I am sure our Eire would wonder
If her children have become pixie-led
by the beauratic English.

We should have stayed
with the Tuatha de Danann, climbed and hid
In the mists of Corrán Tuathail

Nor should our children
Have sailed away, seeking other lands,
Seldom to return.

Eiru calls back to us at Galway
And Mayo, her face flashing then disappearing
Against the florescent haze.

(March 17,2009)

Submitted: Tuesday, June 08, 2010
Edited: Thursday, June 10, 2010
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