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David Whyte's avatar

The limestone mountains known as the Burren in north Clare are a place of beauty and inspiration, but like every corner of Ireland they have hidden among their slopes and rocks, a red thread of tragedy running through their history. During Cromwell’s repression of the Irish in the seventeenth century, his henchman Ireton, pursued fugitive catholics unmercifully through these hills. But the poem is also about the larger human sense of being pursued, when we ourselves feel persecuted and hunted by outside circumstances we seem powerless to effect. We are all at present subject to the predatory actions of the mendacious adolescent presently occupying the White House: someone who could give both Cromwell and Ireton a run for their money when comes to the merciless pursuit of inhuman goals. DW

Louise LoCascio Matarazzo's avatar

I Put Myself Back Together

Before I get ready to enter the pearly gates,

I’m sending out a search party to find

The parts of me I lost along the way,

While trying to fit in and be like everyone else

Rather than celebrating the uniqueness and

Essence of me.

Kim Williams, M.Div.'s avatar

There’s almost a taunting here, aimed at our finitude. It echos of the latter passages of Job when God speaks as the storm to Job, resetting humanities status as creature against the tower of divinity. Of course, I might just be wandering between the lines here having a reckoning with my own islands… 😏

David Whyte's avatar

Please see my note above, Kim, regarding our being subject to the present Jobian storm. DW

Kim Williams, M.Div.'s avatar

Ah...I missed that. Went straight to writing the comment. Well said, and tragically accurate.

Eddie Tipolouri's avatar

Powerful, chilling, and inspiring. Thank you, David. Yes, the phrase, "watch them indifferent to the ardour of a new season" immediately brought the "mendacious adolescent" to mind. I've often wondered if ever he looks outward to the beauty of this world, if ever it touches his humanity.

Natanya Mulholland's avatar

Running to the last place of light, where there is rest.... from the chase of the rich and thirsty. Hunted by those bleeding teeth, who they themselves also only seek .... that release, this freedom, the still soft place .... to be, to sit, to stop.

Debra Roberts's avatar

Just beautiful. Takes my breath away. Thank you