In Dublin I knew a woman,
with flax golden hair
Tressed like wild sea waves,
her heart, her voice
was Irish,
her name, her vibrancy
were Viking.
She was Dublin.
We lived, together,
in The Liberties
while both of us sought freedom,
she, from youth and I,
from bondage.IMG_5982

The Viking Wall
is behind my house
and everyday I tread
in the footsteps of Danes.
A thousand years ago,
they lived, played and traded
in the shadow of my home.

In an exhibition of Viking Dublin,
five hundreds years,
buried by the city,
demonstrated in glass cases,
a shambles, once,
the living here paraded.

The Viking Splash tour
passes behind,
tourists cheer,
in an amphibious vehicle
dressed in funny, plastic hats
with horns,
the kind no Vikings ever wore.IMG_5939

When history is buried,
the ghosts return as cartoons,
faceless, soulless

5 thoughts on “Wild Sea Waves

    • The ones who lived here got on ok. Thanks for reading it, Chris. I’ve been exploring the origins of my own neighbourhood, The Liberties. It’s hard enough to imagine who they were, I couldn’t fathom what they’d make of us.

    • This one of a growing bunch of poems I’ve begun to compile about The Liberties, the oldest inhabited neighbourhood of Dublin where I live. It was the Vikings, the Danes and the Norsemen who first established a community here.

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