HOMEPLACE I love the way Eugene Clancy says the word homeplace This battle-scarred boxer lets the syllables roll They reverberate in his throat - homeplace - I envy the way he can say it so tenderly. Just like John Joe up the mountain at Moneen, where all that is left Of his family homeplace is a stone floor, his father's name carved on the hearth, A chimney and what was once his parent's bedroom. He carved his name too when he left for forty years Working away but always feeling the tug and dream like draw. These words are an embrace, a welcome and a safety. I know that there is no place I can call home place In the same way as Eugene or John Joe With that sound so grounded and assured, rooted on a square space where blood and earth mingle It is my earth, too, but not a homeplace. -- Bee Smith, 2005 issue of "Leitrim Guardian" yearly magazine.