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Showing posts from August, 2018

SEPTEMBER

I feel September In my bones The cool air of Autumn On my skin The colour of Summer On my face And peace within The youth grown suddenly tall Returning in the joy of festival freedom A church bell tolls The passing of the Hours The turning of the days And night lengthening It will soon be time To go inside With quiet reflection New lessons learned And all things gathered To the fire and to the soul The warmth that keeps us Through dark seasons New beginnings and fresh hope

TO THE WATER AND THE AIR

My soul is suited To sea and sky More than earth Made to sail and fly Yet life has bound it Rooted grounded For the sake of Love But if it is to live And not to die I must take myself From time to time To the water And the air 

Beatitude

Exalted above the heavens And deep into the stillness of God Music of the Spirit Beatitude Blessed are you Who will be seen When Jesus returns Heart filled with joy That none shall take away And hold the pain While it remains In Love's embrace Steadfast Face to face In Adoration I will always sing Your praise Now and ever after You are All and all is Yours And all that matters To desire You in everything In every one Even when I stray Your Mercy is so great Therefore I will Trust And not presume

ANGEL FLYING TOO CLOSE TO THE GROUND

Sunday morning in Kilronan, the day after the Gold Digger's gig. Gearoid Browne's place. My friends are sitting at the counter waiting for their coffees and among them is a man unknown to me but known to some of the others. He has taken my seat so I'm wandering around the shop browsing.  The man looks the worse for wear, in need of a cure, hair of the dog which is no cure at all. I later find out that he arrived on the island some years ago, got lost as some do, and never left. He's talking about a song, asking the others if they've heard it - ' Angel Flying Too Close To The Ground ' by Duke Special. None of them have. "I know it" I say. They all turn round to me surprised. The man is pleased. It's like some kind of affirmation to him. An affirmation and a hope. Perhaps it is to me too because I know the song from a fallen time in my life. A reminder of falling and rising. The version I remember is by Beth Rowley f

AND AFTER THIS: Our Exile

"...our exile..." Because I live in another country I sometimes refer to myself as an exile but I know that my real exile is an emotional state, a state of mind and heart and spirit. I am exiled from those I love and need; exiled from God and heaven, my true home. Songs I find myself singing, words of Scripture that leap up from inside me speak of this way of being. Loneliness in the presence of love, emptiness in the presence of plenty. "This world is not my home, I'm just passing through...." And my own song of songs - Neil Diamond's I Am I Said, " ...I've got an emptiness deep inside and I've tried but it won't let me go..." "There are many rooms in my Father's House...I am going now to prepare a place for you and after I have gone and prepared you a place, I will return to take you with me so that where I am you may be too." (John 14) How I long for this returning of Jesus. It were m

Love Is Strong As Death

"You should come and stay with us", he said soon after we met. His eyes kind and happy. An open face. Gentle. He smiled easily. Afterwards he thanked me for the service, especially what I said about about the vastness of the universe and God's Love. He doesn't believe in God, at least not in the personal God of Christianity. This is said respectfully. We're standing in the centre aisle of the church not far from the altar when he tells me of his encounter with the rabbit. He found the rabbit injured and in great distress. Wanted to save it. So he took it in his hands and brought it to a safe place where it might recover and left it there. I'm not sure if this is exactly what happened but it's what I saw with my mind's eye as he spoke. When he came back to the rabbit he realized that it was not going to get better so he decided to take it out o f it's misery, killing it with a rock. Even speaking of it seems to hurt him no

MOTHER & DAUGHTER: Hands Enfolded

The Grotto in Castlegar - a lovely place to be on a dry, cool August morning. Feast of St. Clare and Autumn seems to have arrived. We prayed here for a miracle on May 25th - an incredibly beautiful evening - but there was none given. We came here in our youth across the fields when faith was strong and swift. Now I'm here preparing for the funeral of our neighbour who was 103 years old, whose daughter has been part of our family for over 60 years and I have the honour of being the brother she never had. No matter what's going on, this place delivers a peace that is to be found in no other grotto, except perhaps Lourdes. I'm thinking of the days in the hospital. There was a short period of quiet one evening when conversation ceased and I was alone with Mother and Daughter. In the silence I observed both their hands so effortlessly and tenderly enfolded in each other. They didn’t grasp or hold on tightly; they didn't cling but there was reverenc

BREATHE INTO THE WIND AND RAIN

Sat nav says I'll be in Holyhead at 16.10, making it a six hour trip. You wish, I say to it! But I'm going home and, setting out, I don't mind how long it will take. Its an adventure and my first time taking a car onto a ferry. The sailing isn't until 20.15. All the time in the world! And being the Feast day of St. Alphonsus - man of beauty, poetry, music - I will admire what unfolds before me. Lovely readings at Mass. One of my favourite passages from Jeremiah - when your words came I devoured them; your Word was my delight and the joy of my heart. Treasure in the field. Pearl of great price. Passing near Heathrow a 747 banks beautifully and low in the sky before facing the motorway head on, descending she flew right over us. Thrilling! I'm like a child. By 2pm I'm growing weary, not feeling too well. The virus of the spring still lingers. Not near as bad as it was but is there, nagging, taunting. So I take a break at Moto near Oxford. S