On the Road to Galway Bay
Was it your death
laid out so plain before you
that you objected to? Or was it the sword
laced lengthwise with her dark blood,
a message your subconscious put before thine eyes?
Open, but not to see these stone walls; empty
as a shattered heart, betrayed
for a piece of barren field and a lump of gold.
Her face,
(a sweeter rose they’ll never be) though gone,
emits a peaceful glow. You tower over her quick death
like wolves to carcasses after a long
cold winter. Was she so powerful to deserve this sudden end?
Was she
so blind in love that she did not see you coming? God
showered her with love, you covered her with blood. Not just
her own, but that of generations yet unborn,
yet despised,
yet released to hold onto a dream,
which you will waken to each
night, every night you sleep
until you meet your maker
in long cold shadows
of regret.
© Catherine Woods 1999, 2017
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