Imperial state ,step upon the marble emerald green.
Ascending steps of sovereignty with a grace of entitlement of your land.
Crown them with shamrocks from up above in a ceremony, grand.
Place upon your head the weight of your subjects.
For our hearts are heavy for freedom and for the felled tears, wept.
The harps will play silent here as she leans against us.
May the grace of God set our notes free in hope we trust.
The writings on the wall in this foreign Palace.
Maclise paints a fellow Irishman upon the royal gallery …drinking from the victory chalice.
President Higgins glances upon Wellington in century’s narrative now fabric
Complicated troubled relationships, conflicting peace and the tragic.
A tear rolled down down my cheek that historic moment.
An Irishman in all his presence, elegant proclamations of atonement.
Central lobby looms St Patrick, stepping upon the snakes eyes.
Home rule, let the sun shine in Easter it shall rise.
1916 to the present day, Hibernia haunts this mother of parliaments.
Take me home to Eire free from this prison where the Irish laments.
Shadows and memories remain here defiant in years ,may they last.
Where the ghosts roam in the oppression of the past.
Built with the blood and sweat of IRISH hands this place sets to remind me, of the deep long centuries of strife and sacrifice.
Of this ancient colony.
‘The Irish people will only be free, when they own everything from the plough to the stars’ …James Connelly.
Damien Arness-Dalton 17/03/17