My Sligo

You are my Queendom
I promised myself.
You are poetic Palace
Of rustic, ruddy, realms
For these streets are to me a dream
The guggling Garavogue
And Hazelwood stream.

Seven months of sacred Sligo silence
No denying distractions
Just truth, time and Art
Fulfilling work and the
Healing dark of the black.

Sligo, you saved me
You stole me and gave me
My Home and belonging
My truth and the stunning
Bright light of what is real.

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