91. Our Lady’s Nursing Home
The virgins of Dalkey
Are mothers to me
The old and infirm
They care by the sea.
The sisters of Bulloch
Rise early, retire late
Leading the old by the hand
To the pearly gate.
No families, no sons
No lovers, no daughters
In the battle below
Like lambs to the slaughter.
Yet maybe it's true that some day
The meek and gentle will have their way
The fearsome lion lying with the lamb
In eternal peace and lasting calm.
92. Smiling Jesus
If Buddha and Jesus were friends
They would smile upon meeting
Exchange a hearty greeting
Share a meal as the day ends.
Rising early next morning
Jesus is praying while Buddha is sitting
Awaiting the dawning
Both in love with mankind
Sharing compassion with healing
Feasting and fasting in turns
Sadly, the friendship is cut short
By a death Jesus would want to abort
No pleasure for him in the pain
Or the agony of the cross.
But happy their deaths do not define
Their teaching of love and of care
Far outlive the years they shared.
So when I think of Jesus at table
Through his broad smile I am able
To see his friend Buddha
And his humanity.
Though he died on a cross
He lived smiling and most
Of his time was spent laughing with friends
On the winding paths of Galilee.
So people of God in your chapel
Along with cross put the table
Where Jesus broke bread every evening
Loving the good world that god gave him.
93. Month’s Mind
Guardian Angel mind us
Keep us in the Light
Steer us ever closer
To a future that is bright.
Dearest Angel keep us
Safe with all your might
Light up our lives and loves
Stay closer day and night.
The sun is rising warmly
Above the Wexford sea
A peace is also rising
Embracing you and me.
94. Sallynoggin Church
It’s eight o clock in the morning
On the last cloudy day of summer
And a chilly easterly wind
Sweeps across the grey churchyard.
The barn-like building stands empty
Except for the few gentle souls
Who devoutly pray the rosary
With soft sibilant whispers.
Respectfully unbelieving
I sit at the back in a pew
When all of a sudden
The shy, lazy sun rounds a pillar.
The nave comes alight
With sun through stained glass
Old heads of grey turn silver
A moment of magic lights up corners.
The hour of nine is announced
By the steeple bell high in the tower
Small cars drive up to the steps
Discharging old folk to the service.
The Mass will start in a moment
So I move outside to the steps
And smile as the faithful arrive
With missals and bright Aldi bags.
I shared this faith for decades
And mourn my belief that is lost
One cannot turn back on this path
The spirit once released has escaped.
95. Sinners pray better than saints
Sinners pray better than saints
With prayers that move heaven not earth
With words that emerge from the depths
And wishes that reach up to the sky.
The earth turns but on an inch
And the heavens turn on a penny
The dollar’s a prisoner for many
For those who are captured by money
But prayer sets us free from the worry
Opens our view to a century
When we’ll all be dust in a cemetery
Our tiny efforts but history
Now all that matters is stillness,
Listening for the sounds that are silent
Keeping watch for invisible grace
That clothes our earth and our space.
96. Prison
Tear me down the prison walls
Liberate and set us free
From the commerce, greed
And consumer misery.
Save us from the ruler
Who would keep us bound at night
Free us from the gaoler
Who would keep us out of sight.
In the name of nation,
Religion or high policy
They want to lock us up
They want our voices stifled.
But there is no prison wall higher
Than the one we build ourselves
There are no chains bind tighter
Than the prejudice we held.
97. Lay me down
Lay me down in dusty hiking boots
That have walked the pilgrim ways
And leave me with the tattered Tilley hat
That spared the sun and stopped the rain.
And read a will where nothing’s left
Where all is given while simply living
The banks are empty and the houses sold
To those who follow ‘long this quiet road.
Life is for living and death for dying
To exit as we arrived
Give us today our daily bread
For tomorrow, dear, I’m dead.
To have glided through this world
To have walked with gentle step
And leaving now with e’re a trace
Returning home to dust and space.
98. World Quaker Day in Wexford
Five of us sitting in a circle
Sitting in silence just waiting
In the cold Quaker house
Where the narrow windows
Allowed the blue skies to enter
And the frenzied mind to wander.
Sixty minutes of silence
Free from hymns and liturgy
Safe from earnest sermons
Of clergy fresh from seminaries
Imbued with energy and certainty
The short sighted courage of youth.
We were testing the Lord
Who had promised
Centuries ago without thinking
Where two or three were gathered
He would be there among them
And we were five after all.
Enniscorthy slept through our service
It didn’t mean offense, it was early
On a warm Sunday morning in autumn
And the world was at peace with itself
Not sharing concerns about justice
Or saving the world while snoring
No, all it took were the five
Sitting in silence
In hope more than certainty
The world would outlast this century.
It finished with tea and some biscuits.
If the world’s to be saved
It will be slowly
One cup of tea at a time
In the old meeting house
That’s seen some stories
And times as dark as our own.
99. Quiet Quaker Meeting
The meeting is slowly centering down
Sunday morning in leafy Monkstown
A silence fills the quiet void
My eyes wander towards the tree outside
That frames the window in the sky.
Sitting and waiting for the Spirit to whisper
At times it's wonderful but mostly it's littler
But it's honest and equal and ever so caring
At times quite somber yet oft entertaining.
We come here to worship
And pray without knowing
What effect it will have
On a world that is growing
Apart every day.
Whatever about prayers
At times actions speak louder;
Is it the social justice
Of which we are prouder?
With an eye for the poor,
The distressed and bereaved,
With a passion for causes
That receive no acclaim.
But humble and worthy
All the same.
Then comes the coffee
The tea and the chat
The friendly smile
And occasional pat.
With always an eye
For those who are absent
Though illness or old age
It's uncommonly decent.
Slowly the room drains
All that remains
Is the sudsy wash up
By the regular crew
Always the reliable few.
Come to me you who washed up and dried
You who catered and you who served
The coffee and the tea
For in feeding them
You were feeding me.
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