Rebirth


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where men worked tired hours

weight of the years digging

shovels bigger than city houses

only the dust of history remains.

where lunchboxes sat in the windy sun,

a grey soil remains,

a mineral face.

it whistles like a piper’s tune-

that wind from nowhere 

where tails ride out the breezes

and birds dive into blue holes,

and history changes-

rebirth. 

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About thelostkerryman

Thelostkerryman is an author, and entrepreneur- this side of Tir Na N'Og- living in the forests of a consistently confused country. Here in this hill country, hurling doesn't usually involve a hurley, store-made soda bread resembles an inedible Irish megalith, and Kerrygold is only found hidden like a luck penny in the belly of Kroger. His blogs are an account of his adventures, thoughts, eclectic -and eccentric- ramblings, random or insightful poetry, humor and non-humor, pictures (photos), video, essays, fiction, poetic fiction, nonfiction, drama, and writing he has not classified in the description above. All of his posts from thelostkerryman.wordpress.com, talesinastrangerstrangerland@wordpress.com, everydayasadisciple@wordpress.com, and mrandmrsboring.wordpress.com are copywrited according to international copywrite law.
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2 Responses to Rebirth

  1. reocochran says:

    This was absolutely lovely, LK! I am taken away with the rebirth theme, full of hope.

  2. Asha says:

    and history changes…yes!
    and where there’s toiling, it’s going to be for good and history will change.

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