His boots were far too heavy

For me

I tried walking in them once

 

I sunk

 

Into the mud

 

Squelching and slipping

I pulled myself free

Only to find

I was standing

In the jaws

Of the past

 

Pulling and tugging

At the ivy

That shrouded the gate

I stumbled

And

Tumbled into

His history

 

In the distance

His coat

Suspended

From the old tree

Hung in a whimper

All Lifeless and limp

 

It bid me

To wear it

To feel what he felt

So I slid into his coat

And I buckled his belt

 

It was not very big

But it felt

So much bigger

Than me

 

His coat full of holes

Ragged and worn

His years on the land

Had taken their toll

His coat weighed heavy

On me

 

By the end of the day I grew

Tired in His boots

So I lay myself down

On His pillow

Of peat

 

The rain came so heavy

Vindictive wolves

Whipped up

A frenzy

Around my damp feet

His coat offered no solace

-an imaginery piece

That no man would envy

 

The wind bit at my skin

With menacing peril

The night was so long

I prayed for the sunrise

And dreamt of the beauty

Of morning bird’s call

 

All through the night

I fought the dogs

By dawn

They were toothless

So I went on my way

Pulling myself

Beleaguered and bent

From my mouldering bed

I trudged out of the fog

Before it followed my scent

 

My body was aching

Feet numbed by the cold

But no time to delay

No time to lament

 

Teeth gritted against

The cold, icy spray

I jutted my chin

At

yet

another

Un

relenting

day

 

Although all was gone

I still

Had my song

So

I offered it

Up to the cold morning air

It laughed in my face but

I tried not to care

Being not in the mood

For any back chat

I gulped it in whole

And belched it right back

 

The black treacle land stretched out

Too far

To see

Bleakness and death took

Over me

 

I turned on my heel

Moved fast as I could

Returning his coat

I took off his boots

Ran back through the gate

That had swallowed me up

 

I stood still on the ground

That had given me roots

Pondered on how my delicate shoots

had grown so tall and so

very

very

strong

 

In that moment

I realised

I’d been wearing his genes

All along

 

And suddenly

I’m humbled

To understand

What this means

And so in my heart

I will carry his dreams.

 

C.K. 22

In memory of my Great, Great Grandfather, and all those who perished or survived in The Great Famine in Ireland, 1845-1852.