Tiocfaidh Ár Lá

Twists and turns met
where the mouth faced
cold and dark waves,
Echoing songs and cries
calling from the hours,
Easters, years, centuries.

Voices rattle in the air
and hang, holding their
note over the roar, Grafton Street;
Still and following
feet that keep rhythm,
Stopping and starting and stopping.

Winds blow as bridges and
buses cross them, meeting
rails that gently scream
when passing scars
on post office walls,
Left with nightmare memories.

Lines mark night sky
with life beneath castle walls,
Drawn along the bar,
Celebration as prayer,
Bringing all past the walls
scribbled with affirmation.



So, what do you think?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s