When Joyce and I traveled to Dublin a few years ago, we had no idea the impact it would have on our lives. The sense of connection with our past and the history of our ancestors is beyond belief. My mom always remind me of my Irish roots and when we traveled there it was as much for her as it was for us. History and blood connects us all.
Dublin in the Fall
I am far away
In the city by the sea.
Touch my heart,
grip my soul
my blood knows
that it is home.
Deep orange hues,
yellow reds
frame the ancient buildings tall.
Gentle smiles,........ stories tall
gave me sense of place and time.
Fiddle............. harp,
songs of yore
echoed sounds that made me stomp
made me tap.
Made me yearn for mothers lap
Hearing stories of parents passed.
How they left their home and trees
Never to see the falling leaves
Never to touch the soil of birth.
Blood is home, blood is back
standing on the roots of life
crunching leaves that fill the air
the same stones that filled their path
the same moon that shined their night
Touch my heart
fill my soul
My blood knows that it is home.
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