All
Hallows Eve
Day
flashes early
in
sun and wind
I reluctantly
meet it
for
ancestor visits
on
All Hallows Eve
still
lay claim
to mind and soul
but
our common yarrow
in
a universal ironic nod
invites me
to
take memory of
night
parents
for
a daytime walk.
Along
the road
fall
leaves gather
stealthily
in
a uniform line
under
command of nature
like
cavalry ready for battle
mark the border
between
now
and
then.
Rose
sage delivers a scent
pungent
recall
of
dream sequences:
two spirits
Mother
and Dad
in
the same space
together but apart
as
before
I
a witness
the
exiled Irish child
of
a world
breaking
my heart again.
My
steps befriend
mountain
air
nourished by seeing
snowberry
and grape soda
in
bloom
choral bells sing
of
life given freely
by
two
who
made love
to make six
to make art.
Why
now
in
November dreamy darkness
their visit
as
I sleep
why
not then
when breath of life
could
shed light
how comes
this
belated presence
to
stir awake
fond myths
old stories
new questions.
Silver
maple
waves
gently to me
as
I find my way
the conundrum
swept
away in space-time
cascading
into moments
of insight
buried
innocence
to hold for an instant
then let fly
with hummingbird.
Siobhán Ó Mócháin
Breathnach
All Saints Day November 1, 2011
Untitled (After Yo
Yo)
I dance
to keep pace
with self and
time’s
condescension
to my existence
Cello warns
not to stop
Violin whips a
frenzy
of memory
when movement
captured
all my sense of worth
Wine voices
stir alive
fiddle’s
drunken nights
bass’
sober days
Shame has
no place now
for
sound forgives
bent dreams
rigged hopes
Mandolin sings
of pleasures
places not visited
themes
of
youthful
expectation
Pride of age
succumbs to
its present mind
a museum relic
to
be cast aside
maybe cherished?
I dance
I move
to
end the mystery of meaning
the search
that never ends
Bows bow
sensing dignity
in the idea
of
being human
transferring
in
the moment
an act of love
Siobhán Ó Mócháin Breathnach
December 11, 2011
Keep Going
Don’t wait
for the clock to tick
the bell to ring
the alarm to sound
the buzzer to buzz
Get going!
Don’t wait
for the tap on your shoulder
the smile that’s a frown
the rain of tears
the ups mostly down
Get moving!
Don’t wait
for the postman to stop
for the invite to arrive
the dream to end
the cork to pop
Get loving!
Don’t wait
for the crowd to cheer
the flowers to die
the wine to age
the cortege to go by
Get living!
Siobhán Ó Mócháin Breathnach
November 8, 2004
