My forefathers left Their Ireland
In dire times, surviving the long
Arduous journey in hope
Of fertile farm land
And freedom from poverty
And freedom from poverty
The Canadian government made promises.
Falsely. They found only stones and stumps
Left behind by other poor immigrants
Who gave up the struggle and left for the cities,
In hope of jobs. In vain. In deep poverty.
What little one person earned
Was shared by all. There was never just
One day of fasting a week. Daily mass
Was part redemption, part plea bargaining.
The misery, the misery, seeped into their bones
And was passed on to the following generations
The misery sits deep in our morrow even today.
The misery sits deep in our morrow even today.
We are all survivors, witnesses, culprits
To those drowning in the Mediterranean Sea.
How is it we do not offer them consolation
And comfort? How is it possible that
A hundred-years goes by without human beings
Becoming more human, more understanding
Of this common and shared plight?
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