Late night baptism

Sitting by the unconscious farmer's bed
while he slept the deep sleep of healing
a big midwife walked in and asked me
if I knew how to baptize being a protestant
she said a mother had given birth upstairs
but the baby was not going to make it
and she wanted him to receive a blessing
I was all of eighteen years but knew how
we walked into the dimly lite room where
the mother tired and weary from birthing
the baby wrapped in a white blanket did
not cry as I took the water from the bowl
made the sign of the cross on his forehead
in the name of father son and holy ghost
I named him into heaven that night and
left quietly to return to my silent vigil

Jack Layton

A man for our times for sure
Death will make you larger
Larger than life itself now
Your dying words are written
On the souls of Canada now

Love is better than anger.
Hope is better than fear.
Optimism is better than despair.
So let us be loving,
hopeful and optimistic.
And we’ll change the world



Your death was murder
your death was wrong
your death robbed us
your death hurt us
your love sustains us

your passion and life
your compassion to care
your coffin red and white
your faith your daily work
your bigger than life now


you have become the voice
of all Canadians who love
who want freedom to speak
to call on every money
pinching drunk con man
to be held accountable

you gave us the sword
you gave us your heart
your last breath for us
the people of Canada here
here and now you said live
live like you have never
lived before.

Oh rest in sweet peace
beloved son of Canada
and may your family be
held safe in the arms
of the angels forever.

Irish Dancing

My mother says they flogged the floor till dawn
before they went to work in the field of flax
they danced the night away to the fairy tune
no drink no sex no vulgarity in their world
they danced and drank sweet black tay
before laboring in dawn light next day
My mother says when she was a little girl
she gathering a bunch a kittens in her apron
and brought them up to the cottage door
till granny heard the fierce whistling of mother
and shouted at her to drop them immediately
were no domestic kitten at all but the newborn
young of a mother weasel who was about to bite

The bigger animals were gone now the wolf
the bear the cat and what was left was small
the badger the weasel and fox and the stoat
who walked in fields were corncrake sang out

Beloved Ocean

The rain started as we came into the village
suitable for the meeting with the sick ones
the ones who turned to booze to cover up
the pain inflicted upon their delicate souls

The ocean called me away from their doorway
called me to its grey awesome swelling self
into the healing breath of divinity itself
what better way to spend a holy day than here

Gathering bulk kelp washing my face in water
the salty brim taking away the fear of heart
great waves roll in and out from the beginning
I am but a cell of all that is and I am now

And all looks down to them children of here
the osprey the eagle the crow the seagull
for they have this place called home to
bathe their sorrow and sober their minds

From the north

Yes i am from the north and from the north I am
Quiet and innocent I am most of the time alone
I can never go back to there to that place ever
The place of war and memory of war day after day
Yes I am here now in the peace and quiet of now
but haunted by the past and places I have been
Omagh the place where I began nurse training
Twenty eight years after I left they suffered
The floor could not hold me when I heard of it
I was writing a prayer for peace at that moment
As the bomb ripped through their lives I was
sitting writing a simple prayer for peace
simple prayer for peace at the exact moment
thousand of miles away and eight hours behind
My first thoughts went to Dennis and Margaret
Then to my hospital corridors I did not sleep
for a week I searched the papers for meaning

Tourists

They are here all over the place
seeking and searching for what

Twelve years later

Nearly four hundred injured
The aftermath of violence
Peace is a quiet day silent
Peace is the sun shining
Oh my red heart bleeds
For them that suffer
Suffer in silence

Omagh one year later

She said to write her a letter to the people
the people of Omagh she said write a letter
after she heard my grief she came directly
I held the pen as she penned the each word
I was in that in between place of spirit
She wrote a letter to the people of Omagh
I hope somebody got to read her holy words
I held the pen and words her words down
Queen of heaven Mother Mary thank you.

Poem for Dennis.

My friend Dennis a police officer in Northern Ireland,now retired, was on duty on the 15th August 1998, in Omagh County Tyrone. He was witness to the horrific bombing that took place that day in Omagh. In 1990 I stayed with Dennis and his wife,during my peace walk.He gave me a ride to the main road to start my walk again- just before we got into the car,he got on his knees to inspect the undercarriage when I asked him what he was doing,he said
" I am checking for a wad of Semtex" This poem is for Dennis and his peace.

Poem For Dennis

You were a brave man a man of prayer
When you joined the R.U.C for peace
Despite the negative you took a stand
A man of hero and courage a lion heart
Mother of sweet God no one expected it
Who would in peacetime Saturday afternoon
Amidst all the craic of families laughing
Calling out to neighbors about the day
Shouting at the wains to behave themselves
Trying to get a bargain dressing them for
school so they would be neat and tidy ready
For another year of learning something new
In an instant it all changed at ten after
three a car loaded with hell exploded with
no mercy blowing everyone apart blood legs
arms bellies busting glass windows out far
Tearing down shops the force of the bomb
The shrapnel rickashaying the roar deafening
Water pipes busting blood running down streets

You Dennis a man of prayer was called in from
another village from Sixmilecross you drove
Into the chaos as the wounded screamed out
You did not know if your daughters were here
among the dead the dying the frantic screaming
The angels of Mercy held you together for surly
you were in another place completely unable to
fathom what had just been done to the people of Omagh
Each limb you gathered and examined for signs
it had been sometime since you saw their legs
arms knees dear God in heaven your heart pounding
Sweet Jesus who is it who walked on these legs
Who wore these shoes not half an hour ago now
Dead amongst the rubble you find a mother her
clothes blown apart there lying her dead newborns
Expelled right out of her fat womb onto the street
Out of the warm sacs they floated in for nine months
Their mother's belly ripped open them dead on
the cold pavement beside the grandmother and the
older sister a wee child of eighteen months all
dead on the streets of Omagh four generations
taken in a blast taken from life before they got
of even take one breath of it they were killed
dear God in heaven dear mother of God cradling
their discombobulated souls gather their fragments
knit them together into a whole place in heaven
far away from this place called Omagh this bomb

Dennis worked all day and night gathering the dead
all twenty nine of them the twins made thirty one

Denis is retired now and his daughters were home
Their mammy kept them safe that day said they
had to clean their rooms she saved their lives

Omagh is dutch for grandmother and the 15th August
Is our Lady's day of Ascension into heaven she
surely guarded her beloved people of Omagh into
heaven through the pearly gates out of that hell.