It is how we are and who we are
that we live out here on the edge
the ragged rim of the world
It’s the nature of our vice
In the noise and dust of that dark day
When pain and anger mingled.
Where Love was driven on with whips and jeers
shouldering the oppressive burden of a sinful world.
A Father's Medals World War One
The wrist band from a stillborn son
The first picture of the two (now three)
An Old Irish Fiddle, Left to me
Throw off the soft cheeks of childhood
But not the joy nor laughter.
Let not the dragon's roar
stop your eyes and ears.
I am a man of two green islands
Which by unhappy force and nature
Have become home to five peoples
Not that these people are different
In your eye’s the child
nor should it
Oh the limbs grow,
You who were the 'Chosen',
you who suffered long.
You who wore the yellow star,
The victims of great wrongs.
A mother takes down a photo
And she holds it to her breast
Just has she’d done the child it shows
I am the God of Hedgehogs
It’s a living, though quite small
Yet still within my mood swings
Hedgehogdoms rise or fall
I saw him briefly once,
like a three dimensional
shadow on the lake.
And I was breathless in