Lessons

Oh, they call it the Luck o’ the Irish
But they know not what they’re sayin
for it’s the strength of we beansídhe,
our intertwined arms and legs
and songs sung when the boyos
are gone to fields
of war
and testosterone
that keeps our world in balance

Skirts gathered above the muck
we tend our family fields
Plant potatoes while
rearing children
hoping they turn out
far better than their elders

We teach daughters to
tend sheep
card wool
and knit sweaters
that announce our clan
with pride
And show them how to say
No!
That is not for me

The boys?
We do our best to
make them brave
and smarter than their fathers
None of us wants to lose
another
husband, father, son
to war

In the end,
the lot of us
help our boys muster
the strength
to avoid anger
And offer nothing less than peace