THEN I WENT TO IRELAND

I suppose all kids collect stones
(I filled mason jars with them )

even in my sixties I have them in jars and dresser drawers
labradorite, carnelian, jasper, lapis, opal

I wondered why
and then I went to Ireland

I drove past the ruins of small stone houses
and knew my foremothers had lived in them.
Had cooked potatoes, fish and soda bread
and warmed themselves by the peat fire
( I even thought I could remember the sweet, pungent smell)

lifted the stones from the fields one by one
to make stone fences to keep the cow and sheep in.
felt stones beneath their feet as they climbed down to the sea for kelp

had gone to sleep to the crashing of the surf
( as I had loved the lapping of Gull Lake waves)
they too had wakened to the call of gulls

had conceived, birthed and died within those stones
and chiseled stone crosses for their loved ones' graves

I do not know their names or their faces
but I do know them
for they are embedded in me