Thomas LYNCH, contemporary poet, born Detroit, MI, 1948, lives in Milford, MI. In 1970 he visited Ireland for the first time to find his roots, now owns the small cottage in West Clare, the home of his great-great-grandfather. BISHOP'S ISLAND Two holy men came out here long ago and prayed against the ground that bound them to the green mainland and their prayers were answered. Thus, from their rock in the North Atlantic they watched for God among such signs and wonders as sea and sky and wind and dark supply: fury and firmament privations enough to dull the flesh, and beauty too, to break the heart. They wept with gratitude, kept silent, built an oratory. There, you can see the ruins of it from the coast road. Sea birds brought them mackerel it is said. Fresh water sprung from the rock. When one died the other buried him and cut a stone then died himself some few years after that And everything was swept -- his hut, his bones -- into the vast ocean and was forgot until some bishop on a pilgrimage centuries later, as bishops often did, declared them saints, proclaimed the holy island His.