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"An Scaipthe"
(The Scattering)

Her branches stripped bare
Swept clean by the raging storm
Her children scatter beyond the sea
She grieves.

She grieves hidden by a pervasive, perpetual darkness
Ireland wasn’t dying
She was ending.

And so with a son’s promise to his mother
They leave.

They leave promising someday that they will return to her
And she knowing all the time that they never would
Because they never do.

And then they are gone, forever gone
Scattered beyond her shores
Scattered beyond the seas
Scattered.

And so she waits.

Silently.

Broken.

Alone.


© 2003 Blackthorn Scribe