Gearagh Roots Poem by Margaret O Driscoll

The Gearagh - a wooded river
the homeplace of my father,
that haven that he had to leave
didn't leave him ever
Annahala was a special place,
a village like no other,
it was there he spent his childhood by a woodland full of wonder

The cottages, the village shop,
the water pump, the lime quarry
Helpful neighbours all around,
characters and stories

In the fifties, The Lee Scheme had the community uprooted,
families had to leave their homes
all along the river valley
Tears fell as they watched that day their beloved land was flooded
A community and forest gone -
only Gearagh roots remain

He reminisced about life there when we passed there in my childhood,
the fishing spots by the Lee,
pearls found in river mussels,
the rich fertile soil where he grew
prizewinning vegetables,
but none could compare with the taste of wild watercress

I went with him in later years to walk the Gearagh road,
he pointed out the heaps of stones where once stood happy homes,
He showed me the bowling road where crowds went after mass,
willows and alders grew all around the quarry cross

Pink roses grew around the ruins,
he left with wistful thoughts,
by the old bog road that we passed by
there grew Forget-me-nots