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Over the unmarked bridge
A sense of something new
Returning to a place
I have never been
Yet somehow, coming home.

The path ahead narrows
Bends, twists, curves
Dips, ducks and dives
Toward a grassy valley
‘Tween snow peppered hills.

Past these hills she lies –
Quiet, and unassuming
Besides the river
Old Red Hugh,
Now greener; keeps watch.

Atop the hills, his Castle
there stands; grand
and commanding
O’er the road
Many dine in his name.

His Abbey lies ruined,
Destroyed by invaders,
Graves of men
fill the grounds
Overlooking atlantic waves.

’Twas there I stayed,
and pondered the future,
O’Donnells past
were here once
Now I sit, perched, pondering.

I don’t know who I am,
Where I’m going, or doing,
But I know
In this place
Anseo, tá mé sa bhaile

Written as I reflect on my time in Donegal (Dún na nGall). The O’Donnell clan (my mother’s maiden name) is from here. It’s amazing to get a sense of being in a place where you’ve at some point come from. I must visit Tretheway, soon.

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