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Adrift in America


Tom
Grogan


Adrift in
America

At River�s
Edge


The
Companion



 

The fire in my soul burns for Ireland.
Green hills and rolling meadows.
The sweet smell of the air after the rains.
The melodic quality of Irish voices.

I am adrift in America.

A sea of people losing their culture,
re-inventing themselves and their histories.
I have no history to re-invent, only one to discover.
I have no culture to lose, only one to remember.

My soul is adrift in America.

I don�t say I believe in past lives per se,
whatever that means.
If you were to ask me, �Have you lived before?�
Yes! Categorically and without hesitation.
Yes! In the lives of my forefathers and mothers.
In Ireland, I am sure of it.

Life is a process.
I am here not by accident but by design.
My genealogical history provides links in a chain
of spiritual growth and development.

It�s as though I set out on a journey so long ago
that I don�t remember its beginning or its exact purpose.
I do know that I am part of a larger legion.
This part of our mission fulfilled
we are beckoned home.

The fire in my soul burns for Ireland.
A place I have never seen.
The smells of which have never passed my nose.
The sounds of which I do not know.
The connection to which I can not deny.
Adrift in America, I must go home.


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Copyright �1995 by Tom Grogan. All rights reserved.
Published in Poetry the Write Way: Webstatic � First Journey (Sept. 2000)
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