When bad stuff happens, and … #ireland #truth #culture #art

When bad stuff happens 

and still you love

a nation and state 

and place 

as if it were home,

as if every other place you’d gone to

had gone to 

and been from

a most of real loss …

… and it’s then 

you do realise how much sense it does make

to strive your best 

to take a risk 

and chance the future 

on what you now will 

always love.

And whilst some people hurt you 

and do their best 

to rest your pride,

your sense of self,

just because – goddamnit! – out of time  

they have occupied

a nation you fell in love with,

and tried to define your be and rhyme … 

… and then listen, dear man!

Now do require: require

yourself no rejection 

of culture and nature 

and suture 

fine: a surgical binding;

a reminding of meaning;

the essence of 

Ireland –

the truth it proclaims.

No derangement

nor denial of realities misconstrued:

instead, an attachment so

very fierce to the 

being and seeing 

and reading and righting 

of wrongs perpetuated universal

by that eternal injustice

of ill-adjusted human.

So never lose your fascination 

with the wrong of this song:

a melody of

disharmony is love uncalibrated 

for the man I am become;

and far better is such spontaneity 

than the impetuous cruelty

of the imposing dark 

suns that 

decline like evil 

clockworked night 

of each and every … 

of all our strifes.

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