Tuesday 26 July 2022

Tuesday Poem: "State Funeral" by Thomas McCarthy

 

  Parnell will never come again, he said. He’s there, all that was mortal of him.
  Peace to his ashes.
  James Joyce, Ulysses

That August afternoon the family
Gathered. There was a native déjá vu
Of Funeral when we settled against the couch
On our sunburnt knees. We gripped mugs of tea
Tightly and soaked the TV spectacle;
The boxed ritual in our living-room.

My father recited prayers of memory,
Of monster meetings, blazing tar-barrels
Planted outside Free-State homes, the Broy-
Harriers pushing through a crowd, Blueshirts;
And, after the war, de Valera’s words
Making Churchill’s imperial palette blur.

What I remember is one decade of darkness,
A mind-stifling boredom: long summers
For blackberry picking and churning cream,
Winters for saving timber or setting lines
And snares: none of the joys of here and now
With its instant jam, instant heat and cream:

It was a landscape for old men. Today
They lowered the tallest one, tidied him
Away while his people watched quietly.
In the end he had retreated to the first dream,
Caning truth. I think of his austere grandeur;
Taut sadness, like old heroes he had imagined.

by Thomas McCarthy


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Tuesday 19 July 2022

Tuesday Poem (Song): "Hole in the River" by Neil Finn and Eddie Rayner

 

There's a hole in the river where my auntie lies
From the land of the living to the air and sky
Left her car by the river left her shoes beside
Through the thorns and the bushes I hope she was...
Dreaming of glory
Miles above the mountains and plains
Free at last
We were touched by a cold wind, my father and I
The sound of desperate breathing her fear inside us all
She was coming to see him but something changed her mind
Drove her down to the river
There is no return
There's a hole in the river where a memory lies
From the land of the living to the air and sky
She was coming to see him but something changed her mind,
Drove her down to the river
There is no return

by Neil Finn and Eddie Rayner