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, entrepreneur, and disciple- 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. This blog is 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 my posts, thelostkerryman.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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