Sunday 9 March 2014

Walking Together



You own me,
at least you hold
what Gibran called 'the shell
that encloses... understanding'
in your two cupped palms.

I feel trembling in your fingers,
and the perspiration of excitement
seeps through the membrane
around my body and soul.

When your heart beats fast,
its rhythm thunders through my bones
and my own heart,
catching the frequency,
pounds in time.
When you breathe softly,
in sleep or contemplation,
my soul, too, steadies.

Exhaling, I smile.

In step, we pace
the corridors of existence.
In step, we climb
the gentle green slopes to the crest of a distant hill.

Monday 3 February 2014

Lá Fhéile Bhríde




The bells of St Brigid are calling tonight,
green rush crosses hang on kitchen walls
and warm glows light the windows.

Enter, Goddess... Saint.
Hang your cloak on a moonbeam.

Spring is here in longer days
and the yellowing of gorse in the valley.
Let the festivals begin: flowers, flames
and food;
fresh incarnations of old mysteries
where the blood of the
lamb flows in grotesque substitute
for the milk of the
ewe.

But spring stands for regeneration
whatever colour the candles
you light. And soon swallows
will return to rebuild nests
in the crumbling ruins of last year's shelters.