I Am Said I (Huruma)

What I feel   is the cold  dark night  of Shepherding shivering by the stable door not perceiving what I have seen not understanding what I have heard I want the swaddling blanket of a baby born breast on which to rest my weary head the child-cry in me  am I past all that? and destined now for mothering the child fathered folded in my arms resting her head to sleep upon me the trusting trusted the needy needed

We do not grieve Like those who have No hope But we mourn All the same And weep like Jesus For death is loss To those who remain Our letting go No casual achievement  We labour and ache For contact A physical connection I pick up the scarf I bought for her In Paris Feel the smoothness  Of her skin  The soft scent Of her perfume And carry it with me A year or two Until the fragrance  Fades away No longer Held

It fell in the winter Wind That blew the year She went away I left it there To speak Its silence To the clay Waiting for some Summer miracle Blossoms On a fallen tree Hope For the one Who stumbles Tumbling From storm To stillness My soul Has come To rest Out of the raging New life bearing

November 15, 2015 St.Teresa Of Avila In Ecstasy Only for God and good people there have been many days in my life when I couldn't see how I would make it from morning through to day's end. And only for God alone therehave been long nights that I might not have survived. It strikes me now that those nights were possibly the most sacred because of their aloneness and togetherness - God and I alone, God and I together in a way that is not possible at any other time. There are still such days and nights but not as many. Not for such prolonged, drawn-out periods. I'm thinking these thoughts because yesterday I celebrated the funeral Mass of a man who took his own life. Married with three children, the youngest of whom is one year old today. And a beautiful wife whom he started dating when they were about 14 years old. They were inseparable. I have often wanted my life to end. Seriously. But I never thought of taking it myself because I have a solid conviction that all...

That the Wedding at Cana takes place on the third day is very significant because it alludes to the day on which Jesus rose from the dead and it points us all, and especially the married couple, in the direction of the resurrection. It is an invitation to new life, to the joy that flows from Jesus himself, the joy of the Holy Trinity. A married couple become one body, one Icon of God, a window giving us a glimpse into God; one revelation of who God is and they live the priesthood of Christ in a way that is not lived by the ministerial priesthood - their love for each other is the supreme image of Christ’s love for the Church. In giving birth to children they reflect the life-giving priesthood of God the Father. A Christian family in turn becomes an Icon and reflection of the family of the most Holy Trinity. Marriage and family offer us the various expressions of the One Love of God – espousal, fatherhood, motherhood and the childhood – each of which is found in Sacred Scriptur...

She has courage This woman in labour Who holds And feels The pain Without A sound Moments Minutes Hour upon Twenty hours She is Israel Wrestling All Creation Groaning The all consuming Fight for life Fighting with Life With God Injured Blessed Bringing into Being

Excavate the tomb Exhume humus Death Decay Disintegration The dank ugliness Of it Of me Reduced Returned To nothing Ash Wednesday's Reminder Remember! I forgot And never thought  To die while still Alive The humbling Of the self Long seasons Of dust Laid waste I am the soil The seed that Waits The warming sun The morning dew The harvest of the lowly Risen Restored Regained

My nephew is a very good body builder and he invited me to the Mr. Ireland show that he was competing in last Sunday. I’m not all that keen on the display of big muscles, though maybe I’m envious, but I went anyway because I love him. And there I found myself in a big long queue outside the Olympia, easily the oldest and smallest man around. I've never been inside the Olympia Theatre. Passed it by many times as I drove through Dame Street. It's got a lovely facade and entrance. Old world. It's been a busy Sunday, a very painful week and I've just come from a christening gathering which was very hard to break away from. A family that I have come to love.  They throw buckets full of love all over me, without ever wanting to possess me. And they talk non stop which means that I don't have to think about talking but end up taking as much as any of them. The queue for the box office is massive. Massive for me anyway because I don't like stand...

I walk through the doors Of beautiful Hope Falling headlong Into sadness Tears rising From the well Inside me As though I had entered Into death Instead of life To grieve and not To be consoled The river that runs Is stronger than I Water will not be Held back Weeping will not Restrain itself Much longer It is the only Expression left To me

A moment With no trouble In it Serene Evening Sunlight The last boat Arriving On calm waters That echo the cry Of seabirds homing On the island A young lad His voice newly Broken Enchants his newfound Female friend with stories Of the summer Sounding like a frisky Calf leaping in a stubbled field She laughs her delight The start of something New When something else Is ended

Something lurks Beneath Below My heart The middle Of me A sac A womb Ballooning Ready To burst Foreboding fear That all is not Well Or will not Be It is a lie

The Band ‘If anyone gives you a cup of water to drink just because you belong to Christ, then I tell you solemnly, he will most certainly not lose his reward.' (Mark 9) A cup of water given, the gift of a musical instrument, responding to a poor person, chance encounters, a photo posted on facebook - the prophetic nature of seemingly insignificant acts. Signs of the active presence of God in ordinary life experiences. It’s odd, even interesting at times how things converge. Sometimes I call it Providence. A friend posted a photo on facebook from the early 1970’s of the Mervue/Renmore Comhaltas Ceoltori featuring my sister Rosaleen and myself among others, including two members of St. Patrick’s School Band of which I also was a member. The following evening we were having dinner with a family who used to live beside us in Mervue, three of whom were home from the USA for a short break. An absolutely beautiful evening of connecting and remembering. We talked lightly ab...