Hill of Tara

Hill of Tara
hill of green
hill of families walks and dogs
hill of the druid playing
his drum on the top
in the icy cold wind
because it matters

I find my rhythm
walking on the grass
finally feeling my feet
again sensing my feet
becoming my feet
being my feet
being

I start to cry
can’t stop crying
for all that was
loved and lost
that I loved and lost
and remembered
on that hill