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