Ireland Belongs to the Dead

“To be Irish is to know that in the end the world will break your heart.”

Daniel Patrick Moynihan

I’ve always been ashamed when Shane McGowan queries, “Have you ever walked the lonesome hills, or heard the curlews cry? Or seen the raven black as night upon the wind-swept sky? To walk the purple heather or heard the west wind sigh, and know that’s where the rebel boys must die?” For years, my answer has always been no. And I’ve been ashamed.  And now my answer is yes, I have done these things, Shane. I wish it weren’t so. In the curlew’s shrill keening there is only loneliness. A black-winged raven wheeling in widening blue-grey gyres brings only sorrow. Ireland belongs to the dead.