Loss Poem by Tomas De Faoite

On the edge of town in the forest
There stand five tall trees
In a circle. A drudic temple
Once stood there. I go there
Now and then, hang
No tokens from the branches,
Make no wish, just sit still,
Banish you from my mind
And begin to miss my ancestors.

We cling to anything in loss,
Even bring the dead back
From the grave, resurrect
Heroes out of myth
Like Ferdia and Cuchulainn,
To try and not hate,
To take no sides
In the fight;

Self doomed Ferdia by the ford