Square man
rounded by a patterned jumper
shades of brown and yellow
Large hands..could have wielded
a spade in fields his father..
his grandfather laboured in
Soft elongated fingers
muscles trained to hold a pen
a pencil and a piece of paper
Irish connection lips
moist softened voice fluttering
spare description of agonies
-
Children walking naked to
bones of children mutilated
machine-murdered
Shiny golden trinkets plundered
blood sullying imagination
tender arms of innocence
This mother of mine
more loving than discerning
her biscuit tin held crumbs
of words and pictures
memories I smile about
Life moves in one direction
only down My father
from a bicycle
me on the cross-bar
learning how to balance
how to shrink from
strong pedalling legs..
reaching nearly ninety
shrinking out of life..
his plaited cross floating on the pool
-
Stroking her mother's memories..age infirm
intention bivouacked on distant hills
sending hyacinth ice-cream
message rising in the knotted blood
scenting pathways flooding through blockages
That ice upon her tongue
Hugging unprotected bones
struggling fearful in the night
six long years before she died
-
Sadness floats on incense sweet
seeping into silent spaces
bleaker memories shared
fine grief maps about eyes
in the sober crowd
blues and greys..the black of death
insistent as drums beating in
camps of enemies bivouacked
each night on closer hills
Murmuring tight-jawed litany
mechanical as nuns at Early Offices
purple priests swinging censers
comes at last - hand-shaking
under the lych-gate
19Apr1996 CPR
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem