Tir na Nog

We set up camp on the island,
with fires and poteen to warm
our skin and the cockles
of our hearts. We danced
to the rhythm of the bodhran,
sang along to guitars and fiddles,
and the rise and fall of uillean
pipes’ plaintive songs.

The faeries all but laughed at our
night-befores and morning-afters,
lingering headache hangovers
of mortal life that began as water
gushing and ended as bubbles
at the bottom of the lake
that burst and dispersed our troubles,
charmed away by Tir na Nog.

On the shore there were sparkles
of light, fading memories
that melted like snow.
Where did they go?

Kim M. Russell, 17th May 2021

My response to earthweal weekly challenge: Voyage to the Otherworld

Brendan says that, “as with myth and dream, modernity has almost lost its Otherworld. The language of wonder and flight is paltry and dry. As the Earth becomes haunted of vanishing life, so the everteeming Ocean is a faded, seldom and flickering place. Change is inexorable; ghosts and monsters abound. But all is not done. Thanks to mediums in the earthweal community, we can return to the Otherworld hidden in this one, find renewal and gifts for the tribe through ripened songs of it. That is this week’s challenge.”

21 thoughts on “Tir na Nog

  1. You beat me to it today Kim 🙂 I love this gentle song. Poteen can be dangerous, as my dad learned when he drank too much of it then tried to climb the stairs!

    ‘lingering headache hangovers
    of mortal life that began as water
    gushing and ended as bubbles
    at the bottom of the lake’

    – this really gets to the heart of Brendan’s challenge: life as a hangover, the spirit world as a near-forgotten memory. Enchanting!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you Ingrid! I didn’t sleep well and got up earlier than usual. I didn’t get as much done as I wanted to, though. I think it’s all the confusion about easing the Covid rules in the UK. I’m taking a break until the dVerse quadrille this evening.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. There came Bove Derg,the Fiery,selddom seen,and his harper the son of Trogain, whose music heals the sick and makes the sad heart merry; Eochy Mac Elathan, the Dagda Mor, the Father of Stars, and his daughter from the cave of Cruachan; Credh Mac Aedh of Raghery and Cas Corach son of the great Ollav; Mananaan Mac Lir came from his wide waters shouting louder than the wind, with his daughters Cliona and Aoife and Etan Fair-Hair; and Coll and Cecht and Mac Greina ……………………………………………..

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I’d say Tir Na Og lingers here. There are three drinking cups on my father’s family crest, which tells us that voyages are bubbly-enhanced and visit the islands of laughter, weeping and sleep. -B

    Liked by 1 person

  4. How cool – years ago, there was a cabin at the beach named Tir na nog, run by a girl from Ireland. Your beautiful poem transported me to Ireland, my heritage. I almost could hear the fairies chuckling. Winter afternoons with my grandma, she would tell me to look into the gas fireplace and see the fairies dancing in the flames.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. I simply adore it. I love the ethereal, fairy-like descriptions, the longing of a passing night like a forgotten dream. Goodness, what a delight.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Tir na Nog, Land of the young…..you conjure up memories of many similar nights and, yes, the following morning (but the best thing about hangovers is , they are easily forgotten)….enjoyed this one, have to get back there when this Covid thing ends…JIM

    Liked by 1 person

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