They carried their lives
In their language
Their stories and history they told
Who came from where
And who married whom
And who went away
And wasn’t she bold
Their language bound them together
They knew when to say and be dumb
You have to live with your neighbours
From dawn to late setting sun
They told their stories at evening
When the day and hard work was done
Their language was pure entertainment
Music debate and great fun
I remember my aunts round the table
Discussing the Erris they left
Powerful women each one of them
The land now without them bereft
The wide open sky and the hillsides
The roads and the miles that they walked
Came alive in my heart then forever
As they talked and they talked and they talked
Brian Fahy
25 October 2021
+ I read today of a lady who died in Bangor but who came from Glencullen Upper. The old ones are going, I said to myself. Then I remembered the echo of conversations in my home in Tyldesley, Lancashire, as my mammy and her sisters talked of home.
Erris Poetry 