Liam UiCearbhaill
In 2003 I moved to Mendocino County with my wife Tabitha to find
cleaner air and a community in which we could feel at home. We settled
in Willits,
The Gateway to the Redwoods, and soon discovered the joys and trials
of life far from the big city. Tabi can breath here because there
is very little to set off her chemical asthma. We found friends among
the diverse residents of this isolated town, and have become involved
in community organizations where we can contribute to the town we
have come to love. The drawback to living here is that work is scarce.
A large number of the residents find it necessary to have multiple
professions: Gardener and Artist, Taxi Driver and Family Counsilor,
Carpenter and Computer Consultant. With only 90,000 people in a large
county few professions garner enough business to pay the bills.
We are no exception. Tabi knits
and teaches knitting along with her retail work in a local Rubber
Stamp and Toy store. She also watches animals for friends who are
out of town and does filing and odd jobs for various small businesses
in the area. I do Freelance Writing; Perform and sell my Poetry; Perform
Weddings; and produce engraving art with Vision
Numeric's Type3 software. My business, and this website, is organized
into three sections: Word Smith (Freelance Writing, Poetry for Sale,
Storytelling in Verse), Engraving Artist, and Weddings. Each have
their own logic and their unique elements but they are all organized
under the business name of MacAmergin Press.
MacAmergin is not a common name in Scotland or Ireland.
The name means 'Son of Amergin'. Amergin (alternate spelling: Amhairghin)
was the first poet of Ireland under the rule of the Sons of Mil
(also called the Milesians) according to the Book
of Invasions. As I first started to seriously write poetry in
1994, I found myself drawn to adapt the ancient Gaelic forms of
verse to English. As I am drawing from the tradition started by
Amergin, I chose to call my business the Son of Amergin.
|
The Song of Amergin
(said to be recited by Amergin when he first set
foot on Irish soil)
I am the wind that blows upon the sea
I am the ocean wave
I am the murmur of the surges
I am seven battalions
I am a strong bull
I am an eagle on a rock
I am a ray of the sun
I am the most beautiful of herbs
I am a courageous wild boar
I am a salmon in the water
I am a lake upon a plain
I am a cunning artist
I am a gigantic sword wielding champion
I can shift my shape like a god
In what direction shall we go?
Shall we hold our council in the valley or on the mountain top?
Where shall we make our home?
What land is better than this island of the setting sun?
Where shall we walk to and fro in peace and safety?
Who can find you clear springs of water as I can?
Who can tell you the age of the moon but I?
Who can call the fish from the depths of the sea as I can?
Who can cause them to come near the shore as I can?
Who can change the shapes of the hills and headlands as I can?
I am a bard who is called upon by seafarers to prophesy
Javelins shall be wielded to avenge our wrongs
I prophesy victory
I end my song by prophesying all other good things
Celtic Myth and Legend by Charles Squire, orginally
published 1905
translated: De Jubainville Cycle Mythologique
|
The Wandering Gael
© Liam UiCearbhaill
Fodla and Mil, Alba and Erin
Mother and Father and wombs of our brood
Boru and Maedb, The Bruce and dear Amergin
Siblings before us who founded our mood
Stepfather England in violent cruel fosterage
Robbed us of birthright in croft, plain, and vale
And thus were we thrust upon Gaia’s cold mercy
The Celt without country, the Wandering Gael
No tribe to uphold us, no village around us
No Poet nor Druid nor Chieftain held sway
‘Twas only the Priest and the Presbyter Preacher
To give out the sacraments and show us the way
In dark cities teeming with Europe’s cheap discards
Or coal mines or rail lines through wild frontiers
Or hill country farming in dirt scratching labor
We eked out survival or succumbed to our fears
We spread and we prospered despite of the hatred
Shoveled upon us by ignorant folk
We laughed and we drank, we labored and quarelled
And some even grew rich to finish the joke
We found ourselves homes where the land made us welcome
In countries Down Under and the Lands of the West
In Boston, Chicago, and South Carolina
In Sydney, Seattle, and where I love best…
The shining land looking out o’er the Pacific
The valleys, the mountains, the deserts, the lakes
With celluloid dreams and silicon thinking
With fires and floods and dreaded earthquakes
My home, California, the true Land of Promise
With sunshine forever and thick Tule Fog
With shining snow peaks and hot sandy beaches
I think me this Gael has found Tir na nOg
I hear this land speaking as oft as I listen
I hear the nine waves in our Father’s travail
Under these mountains a treasure trove glistens
Of wisdom and beauty in this home for the Gael
I am the Salmon in long rivers running
I am the Cougar perched high on a stone
I am the Sierras and the Desert Sun shining
I am the Redwood growing tall in my home
|
