On my way back from Ireland, the first sentence of this poem was already forming itself in my mind. It's hard not to feel awe when you find yourself in the presence of literary greats, as I did when I visited the William Butler Yeats exhibition at the National Library of Ireland. But I found myself inspired by so much more--so much of it just an intuitive response to a country that is rich in so many ways, in the ways that count, at least to me.
I Walk in the Shadows of Giants
I walk in the shadows of giants
Stand in the splendor of kings
Mute in the presence of tyrants
Lost in the halls that sing
I roam the passage that beckons
Ancient the call that keens
Lithe is the fairy that reckons
Spirit remains unseen
I fly in the temple of sinners
Eat at the tables of saints
Join with the forces of winners
Scarce are the jabs and the feints
I reel in the smoke of the fire
That burns in the halls of the kings
Fly in the face of ire
Sail with the lords of the rings
I forage the future of time
Divine with the rod of the druids
All things about me sublime
All things about me are fluid
I stand in the shadows of giants
Walk in the presence of lights
Far out upon the horizon
Dancing about me like sprites
I speak in the tongues of the ancients
Keen with the songs of the dead
Free my soul from the dungeons
Of fear, of death, and of dread
copyright Paula M De Angelis
July 2011
