MK ( / South Africa)

A Different Kind Of Wet

I wrote this poem whilst visiting Ireland from whence my Gran had left to settle here in South Africa in the early 1900's.

Sure I travelled far from Africa
across the oceans wide
To see the land my Gran had left
as a young and blushing bride.
I closed my eyes in Dublin Bay
whilst waiting for a train
And gave thought to Maggie Shanahan
Who'd not go home again.

I sighed for her and loved her land
'Twas the best I'd ever seen
With the fairest wind blowing in my hair
And everything so green.
I closed my eyes down Shannon's Way
waiting for the sun to set
And I smiled, for the gentle raindrops
Were a different kind of wet.

Maggie Shanahan, I share your soul
What you knew and felt and saw
For to you all things were beautiful
Could I have loved them more?
And my heart, dear Maggie Shanahan
cried out with anger strong
For you had to leave this land where tears
coloured every mother's song.

Oh I love your land, Maggie Shanahan
From misty sky to sea...
The rolling hills, the mountains dark -
Your home in sweet Tralee.
And I closed my eyes, proud Kerry girl
Knowing I would not forget
And I smiled, for the gentle raindrops
Were a different kind of wet.

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Comments (1)

Margaret, I loved this poem you captured Maggies longing to return to the land of her birth. I had a Irish friend called Maggie who returned to Dublin to only long to return to her adopted land South Africa, but was not in a position to return. Our best poems come from that special place called heart, this ones one of those. Bob