I Can Only Pray

 
I re-member that wet, West Irish beach
Piping seagulls onward to Roan Inish, Innishmurray
Prickling forehead
It all unravels now
As I sit complete in my angst
Deeply here, long from there
In this place of musk and matter
I can only pray
For the wild and ancient ones
To come from the aspen groves
Parading down into town
Under the harvest moon
 
Returning to me, letting me return