I Am Said I (Huruma)

Scent of white Jasmine mingled With burning turf Taste of arabica Coffee ground brown Toast Sounds of the house Stretching awake The creak Of beaking day Damp hiss of wood On fire kindle Crackling Repressed flame leaping Into life The uncertainty of wounds Not healed finds expression Blended ecstasy Of agony and hope

You’ve had it As a serious artist Now Your songs are on The mellow music playlist Of Sunshine Radio Stroking The nostalgic flabbiness Of the middle-aged Who hanker pastwards Your edge Sharp with meaning Relevant Become a blunted Blandness You can have it As a serious artist Now In the stripped down Stillness Prophetic silence That gives birth To forward thrusted Yearning Fire of soul Sharpness of sword Sound of the deep

Feast Of Christ The King I was in prison and you visited me The book and the movie ‘Dead Man Walking’ tell the true story of   Matthew Poncelet, a  man facing death alone, except for the love of a Catholic sister. He is a castaway, considered untouchable and worthy of death by his society. The nun comforts him and says, "I can't bear the thought that you would die without seeing one loving face. I will be the face of Christ for you." She is Sister Helen Prejean, a Sister of St. Joseph of Medaille. He is one of four convicted of murder whom she has accompanied to the death chamber in Louisiana and he asked her to accompany him spiritually in his journey to death. ( http://www.americancatholic.org/Messenger/Apr1996/feature1.asp ) In celebrating the feast of Christ the King we honour a King who is a shepherd, one who looks after all His people, with emphasis on the word ALL. Not just SOME  but ALL - each and every one! “The Lord says this: I am going...

I am present At his passing This fine strong gentle Man Builder of boats Husband father grandad Deep strength of faith On his knees even In his agony I brought him Communion He loved the sea In me and made Tea Made me feel Special While we talked Galway and other Common ground Fingering old timber Caressed like the tender Flesh of a loved one The last call Talked of hours Urgent Time to heed Better instincts Without hesitation All generations gathered Around his fading moments To sing and say Final farewells Whipsered in his ear One by one Unrestrained Love Anointing Praying Sé do bheatha a Mhuire Child's head Resting on his breast He falls asleep Slips away Rested

In the premature falling Night Head bowed bent Forward against the absence Of an Indian Summer Rain like Rice Crispies Snap-crackle-popping On the flapping plastic Of my hood Wind whipped ears My eyes in custody See only the ground On which I walk Isolated The world empty now Except for the odd stray Runner squawking seagull Scared crow Swan heads buried In the river Hidden But not hiding I think of all the false Belongings I have tasted The true belonging Of Love That draws me in To the Claddagh church Before Mass Enfolded in the radiance Of Your Face Lifted up to intimate communion

How is a child Supposed to know That the truth lies Somewhere in between Your scolding emotion Scalded devotion? You never said That it was love It feels like hate The too-tight noose Of your embrace Sword of tongue Tasting like captivity Though you keep promising Freedom

I. A bit rough around the edges Said Love With tears And a quivering voice Like the fields he farmed The soil that felt his footfall Strong and straight Loyal Not easy then with Weakness in another Vulnerability became him As with surprising grace He himself surrendered Allowing us a glimpse Of something more tender Faith-filled Praying his way Homeward With an eye for the frailest Left behind II. He is laid to rest now In this land that he loved A calm November day Sun shining, birds singing Breeze blowing Bough of trees bending River flowing Rainbow in a clear Blue sky Last leaf falling Whistling in the wind In this place there is Peace (In memory of Fr. Roger Rafter sac)

THE FEAST OF ALL SOULS 2 ND NOVEMBER 2014 INTRODUCTION As we remember the dead today we pray with great hope to the Lord who is constantly bringing life out of death and light out of darkness. PRAYER OF THE FAITHFUL We remember our own dead and our own sadness … Tears speak out our grief, but they also witness to our love and we are glad to have loved so much that we can cry.  May those we have loved rest in your embrace, O Lord .  LORD HEAR US We remember the loss and grief of others around us.  We think of the funerals we have been at in the last year … We pray especially for those who are without consolation .  LORD HEAR US We pray for all the people who have died in our community and in our country this past year – older people; younger people; those who died content; those who died struggling – all sharing in common that they died into the arms of our loving God.  LORD HEAR US Wherever there is grief, may hope be allowed to ...

(In loving memory of my cousin Paul who found solace in the words of this poem and whose untimely death has given these words another meaning. November 3, 2012) Place me on a shore at dusk By the sea’s healing waters Where thoughts like boats G o floating by my mind’s eye Some circling round Or anchored to distract Yet not to hide your Light My Love Place me at dusk on a shore Where the soul’s calm sea Is stormed and laid to rest At your command To contemplate your Light My Love This I ask Amen!