161. Brigid Lily Murray 1919-2014
Saving from your first job in Foley’s brewery
Until you well passed eighty
Like the prudent virgin in the tale
Like the sailor out at sea
You always trimmed the sail.
Always careful, always frugal,
Though generous to a fault
Kind to young and old
Except to yourself, of course
Sitting here in the sunshine
Of my country paradise
How many meals did you forsake
That I might enjoy this place?
How many things did you fail to buy
To how many things said ‘no’
That I might sit in the sunshine..
Is it too late to say thanks somehow?
Maybe the answer’s in sharing
What I’ve got, what you gave without caring
The bill, the cost or the price
The only solution is the giving.
All here because of your saving
That started in Sligo post office
Seventy years ago
Thanks Lily, thanks mum
We’ve something special to show!
162. Au revoir dear friend
No need to pray for him
He rests in peace now.
We mourn his passing
We miss that kind voice
And cheeky charm.
No words can repair
The sadness of our loss
For he’s not spirit only
But body too.
Released, his soul’s flown on,
Beyond the bounds of heaven and hell.
He’s way beyond our solar system now,
Beyond black holes and galaxies,
Escaped from gravity
And religion’s poor grasp
Of infinity.
Beyond our wildest dreams
And crazy imaginings.
He lodges in a starry room
Prepared for those who live the truth
And live the love
A mystery most extraordinary.
163. Churchtown Angelus August 2012
Sitting here in the shade
Of the spreading tree
In leafy Castle Park
Car door open with windows down
A gentle breeze
Rustles the leaves
Beneath the pale blue china sky.
A warming sun
Full of August promise.
The first few leaves
Of early Irish autumn
Scurry along the pavement
Like playful schoolboys
Hurrying nowhere in particular
With carefree insouciance
And joyful innocence.
This magic moment
Only came to be
Through a haircut
For an aging lady
Of almost ninety-three.
Confused of days and hours
Bravely facing loss of powers
The common fate of missing
Friends who died younger
The nether coin-side,
The double-edged blessing
Of advanced old age.
A pigeon calls
In Castle Park
In trees above
The handsome homes
And gleaming cars.
A man with silver hair
Cleans clubs with care.
Sounds of grass being cut
Are punctured by the Angelus bell
From the Good Shepherd church.
Midday suburban sounds
A sleepy sunny peace abounds
Ladies hair is cut with care
By Peter G who helps awhile
The Churchtown gals prolong their style.
164. Kate Harte (née) Morris 1920-2013
Many decades to remember
As we mourned her last December
Kathe the golfer, Kate the mother
Sister, friend and life-lover.
A gift for friendship
Not spread wide
But true and close
Right by our side.
Ever ready, ever true
To lend a hand
To me and you.
Knitting, sewing, cooking, cleaning
Nothing ever too demeaning
Coming, going in her Mini
Driving deftly as in a Porsche.
Baby-sitting, reading, teaching
Around her kitchen table.
Tea in china cups
To the chime of carriage clocks.
To Marie’s bungalow above the bay
A modest drink at close of day
A lively G and T at five
Helps the sisters to revive.
Simple homely pleasures
Span the rolling years
Time sits still for decades
On sleepy Bulloch pier.
At last the call of time
Caught Katie in its clutches
And so the days now shortened
As eventide drew nearer.
Never dim, but always bright
Her smile lit up our day
We knock, she turns
‘Hello darling’ I still hear her say.
165. Kate Spencer née Catherine Anne Murray
8th July 1958 to 22nd February 2007
It’s hard to believe
Still harder to say
That dear, sweetest Kate
You passed swiftly away
Ten short years ago
At dawn this very day.
In the early morning ward
Your young life slipped away
As the birds in Lincoln chirped
And huddled in prayer
That a soul ever so loving
Was no longer there.
Where was the justice
In a life cut so short?
Life promised much more
When you were chosen by Dad
In the adoption ward
Of a Dublin orphanage.
Given up by your birth mother
Unable to care
For a baby who was born
When no father was there.
You could hardly remember
Mum was seeking a son
But came back with a daughter.
Your deep and sad eyes
Won over your mother and father.
Catherine they called you
In honour of Dad’s mother
Who living in England
Never quite managed
To meet her granddaughter.
With the sweetest of smiles
The house filled with laughter
And kindness and love
Despite early disaster.
The day of Claire’s Christening
You announced to the world
You were going nursing in Asia
You were joining Concern.
You returned with a husband
Devoted to you
In death and in life
In sickness and health
He was there for his wife.
Twenty years later
We embraced as you
Slipped slowly away
So early on the saddest day.
Dear, sweetest Kate
So short were your days
But still your smile lingers
And your laughter still stays.
Your sister and I
Remember you still
We love you today
Forever we will.
166. Little Lil
Love you little baby
No bigger than a fig
Love you little Lily
You’re getting really big.
First a poppy seed,
Then a weeny lentil
The progress is impressive
A daily growing miracle.
The world was never perfect
It’s no different now
But you will grow
And make it better somehow.
Never was a tiny creature
More anticipated or loved
Never more cherished or wished for
A warm welcome from above.
Dear Lily I love you
Indeed I always have
I cherish you dear Lil
And I always will.
167. Lorraine
Oh I love your gentle smile Lorraine
I love your cheeky grin
I love the laugh lines in your face
Please keep those wrinkles in.
Oh I love that laughter in your voice
It’s so clear and true
Your lilting Irish accent
The voice of Dalkey, you.
Please don’t change one little thing
You’re perfect as you are
You’re modest and retiring
For me the brightest star.
Addenda
Souvenirs from the way of St James
of Compostela, June 2011
1. Camino Musing, poem by Fraser Jennings
We walked, and talked, and walked some more,
Up down, and round Camino Frances way.
We talked, and walked, and talked some more,
And when alone there was still more to say.
To dream and ponder life, and all around.
To step out in anger in memory of lives snatched away,
But all the time a peace prevailed,
The cup of friendship never far away,
As the peaks of the Pyrenees we assailed.
And when we walked and talked no more,
We felt better for each foot sore day;
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