I have not thought of this poem for years, until tonight. I am a big fan of W.B. Yeats, althought I read him with much interest in high school and in college. I am not of Irish descent, my heritage is Native American. I do feel close to the Irish people though. I wasn’t Irish in a previous life, but I feel as though I can relate to what Yeats says in many of his poems. For centuries, Ireland was under the yoke of England, and N. Ireland is still not free. I have studied Irish history and the movement for Irish independence. Although not the same, the Irish struggle and the struggle of Native Americans is similar. This poem to me, talks about a people struggling and the hopelessness that we sometimes feel about our situation personally, and the situation of our people.
An Irish Airman foresees his Death
I KNOW that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate
Those that I guard I do not love;
My country is Kiltartan Cross, 5
My countrymen Kiltartan’s poor,
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public man, nor cheering crowds, 10
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind 15
In balance with this life, this death.
W.B. Yeats
Rezervation Blues 