How many steps to a true Irish dance?
The drumming, the pounding, a rapid fire clatter
with feet all ablur and dresses aflounce,
the world all a rhythmic, gunfire rattle.
It is more a made atmosphere
than a true evocation,
when St. Patrick Day's near
Irishness is mostly simulation.
Not mocking, a model, a mirage, a motif,
echoes of Ireland idealized in green;
even if most of our Celtic belief
is rooted in landscape that we've never seen.
What we see is the green beer and green-tinted beef,
the young girls, dancing briskly their role.
We lose track of the steps, but it's a pattern in relief,
tracing outlines of Eire not quite missing the whole.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment