In 1911
Listed in 1911 were four houses
recorded in black cursive long-hand
holding then the seeds to my existence.
One in the swamp in the South bore my father's name
and three in the West
where dwelt the Tribes of the Sea
held the other peices of the helix.
Unravelling the threads
that doubled every time I came closer
I saw a woman alone
no trace of the ten children she bore,
two were dead and the living
all sailed for less green lands.
I reached across the empty place at the table
to tell her that the auburn curls she gifted
have passed to my son;
that I now gently stroke her hair
to lull him to rest.
On the Island was a young girl
whose face I reflect
in order that our tribe may remember.
mary desmond