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This poem was written in honour of those Irish who have had to emigrate during our current economic crises. Things are so difficult that six Irish people leave for every minute that passes. It is about the pain of leaving and finding oneself in a foreign country, not their own. On Going Home And Taking Leave Trailing into myth her past flows, screaming through my veins. And I like a lover longing, replete return to her embrace. To walk again the shattered path of History, torn, stained by boots on bloodied ground. She, from who's womb emerged giants, men of letters, poetry, song, whose names I taste with my tongue, Yeats, Shaw, Wilde, Bacon, Lewis, Stoker, Heaney, Milligan, Russell, Moore, Smith and one above the rest *Ua Laoghaire, Peadar I can't forget. She is shackled still yet not United with, a Kingdom, not her own. The blood of my blood, the bone of my bone, lie North seperated by lines arbitrary. And I howl with need to know my kin, my kindred, my own. Now taking wing, I leave her supine, lying in a Sea of her own Name. But she dances still in the mind of my eye while I wander Lonely, souless, bereft, in another country, not my Own. *Peadar Ua Laoghaire (Father Peter O'Leary), the founder of modern Irish literture. From 2011 through April of 2014 300,00 Irish emigrated due to economic hardship In 2011 60,000 Irish emigrated due to economic hardshp. In 1989 44,000 Irish emigrated due to economic hardship. From 1950-1960 500,000 Irish emigrated due to economic hardship. In 1847 1,000,000 Irish emigrated to America due to famine. From 1847-1851 400,000 Irish emigrated to England due to famine. This is but a fraction of the Irish diaspora.