We know so little about you
dark-haired, dark-eyed Neolithic people,
but, in this bend of the Boyne River,
we see evidence of respect for your dead,
interred in long passage tombs walled by kerbstones
with their carved spirals and geometric lines.
No horses and no wheels then, and yet
you transported snow-white quartz
in crude boats from Wicklow: but how
did you get it from the coast to this valley?
No records exist to tell us this, or how you built
ossuaries which welcome winter light.
As for you, grandad, how did you,
a Shillelagh businessman, pitch up in Finnegan’s
of Navan, a dozen miles west of Newgrange?
A card game, we’re told, with refreshments
served by Frances, the daughter, who caught
your lively eye, then your straight heart.
You’re both entombed now, along with ten
of your twelve children, all graves
marked by inscribed granite or limestone.
I look for signs of you in letters, photos
and the Leinster landscape, so craggy
in the south, so smooth in the north.
Maeve O'Sullivan’s poetry and haikai have been widely published, anthologized, awarded and translated. She has five collections with Alba Publishing, the most recent being Wasp on the Prayer Flag (2021). Maeve leads workshops in haiku, and is a professional member of the Irish Writers’ Centre and the British Haiku Society.