To the Motherland for a while –
It is clear that I must visit the Sea –
Pick up the familiar clasts and cast them into the surf –
The headlands that I can trace in my sleep, as familiar as the back of my hands (changing with age, wind and sun) –
The sound of the waves, hypnotic and addictive, never easy to leave –
Easier knowing they will always be there, indeed there will always be an Ireland, long after we are all gone.