I Am Said I (Huruma)

For nearly six years now since my mother died, I've been travelling down the distance from Dublin to Galway first of all to visit my family and secondly to keep the gardens of home in check. It sounds posh to say "gardens" as if I own an estate. The housing estate of Mervue that was built by the corporation in the 1950's was well planned, thoughtfully providing a lot of public and private space. Our family home is one of six terraced houses in Ceannt Avenue where we were given three gardens. One small one at the front, another small one at the back and then the big back garden that was used in our youth for growing vegetables. It was my mother's garden. It was she who cultivated it when she was young and strong enough to do so. In later years she turned it into a lawn edged on one side with lovely shrubs and small trees. And she left all of this to me before she died, wanting me to have a place of my own to come home to.      I'm no Diarmuid Gav...

For nearly six years now since my mother died, I've been travelling down the distance from Dublin to Galway first of all to visit my family and secondly to keep the gardens of home in check. It sounds posh to say "gardens" as if I own an estate. The housing estate of Mervue that was built by the corporation in the 1950's was well planned, thoughtfully providing a lot of public and private space. Our family home is one of six terraced houses in Ceannt Avenue where we were given three gardens. One small one at the front, another small one at the back and then the big back garden that was used in our youth for growing vegetables. It was my mother's garden. It was she who cultivated it when she was young and strong enough to do so. In later years she turned it into a lawn edged on one side with lovely shrubs and small trees. And she left all of this to me before she died, wanting me to have a place of my own to come home to.      I'm no Diarmuid Gav...

Love cries Because it loves Its tears selfish And not selfish at all It cannot bear absence Not loving the one For whom it would Give its whole life If it could be measured It would have The length and depth Of tears Floods and Oceans For Love is water In all its shapes And temperament And when I die Do not put sweet words On my lips I will not say That I am only gone To the next room I will not ask you Not to cry I should not tell you Anything about how You should grieve But if I would I should ask you to cry And cry as you must Until the time for letting go And I would ask for the flowers Of your garden Cascading their fragrance Like incense all around About us as testament To our loneliness and loving The loving that is perfected In all its expressions