Anna Devine,
chieftainess of Ulster,
whose Banshee is
associated with a hag,
was it she I heard?
No, it was not.
It was a lovely young
Galway lass
from far away Connacht.
She screamed for Daniel Fawcett,
the moment that he crossed it,
The Great Divide,
and into the beyond,
a howling animal wail
of pain,
nothing sane,
no song.
I thought somebody was being murdered
and went to look
into the forest.
The maiden Banshee
who combs her long hair,
likely died a virgin
or in childbirth,
like Anna Devine,
before her time,
a golden glitter in a dream
of mine.
It was just before Daddy passed away.
Uncle Albert was waiting
along with the glitter,
Anna Devine?
Great-grandmother
of mine.
The fox,
the doe,
I should say
I wonder, though.
You can keep your phones.
I have my Banshee
to call me home.
✨🍀✨
