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Wednesday, May 31, 2017

" Sacred Hoop"

I watch her
 She sits,
fully concentrated- 
with her 
Eye on the Needle
Her stitches are tiny and varied-
precise, and incredibly neat.

I touch the worn wooden Hoop
 a Sacred Circle, in Her hands
The muslin fabric-
  a rough cloth,
will become softer, with Her working
Much the same, as Her hands,
have done with me.

I examine the different coloured threads
 carefully wrapped,
around  pieces of discarded paper
She loves bright colours
 I see their reflection
in the Eye of the Needle-
in Her intelligent eyes.

She knows how to make use of things
  Learned through Hard Times
She does not boast -
 Her way is one of Quiet Knowing
She never wastes words
Knowing,
So much counts, in the Doing.

I am Happy, as I sit near Her
Watching Her fingers, guiding the needle,
Skillfully, through the fabric
 Eyes Steady
Not unlike her Heart-Always Steady
As the Eye
of the Needle. 
 
Soon a Pattern will emerge
One She has worked, with Patience and Care
One day, I will Understand
She did Her Best to Prepare me
For a much larger Canvas; a Life-Tapestry
 Guiding, Teaching, and Loving
With Her Eye, upon the Needle. 

~Alicia O'Hara 
c. 26 June, 2013

 ~Beannaichte'
31 May, 2017


@beannaichte.twitter.com

Tuesday, May 16, 2017

" The Red Bird Sings"


~ No sun outlasts the sunset
           But will rise again
                                    And bring the Dawn

 ~ Maya Angelou 

The day is lovely, I climb the hill ...

A grave marker gleaming in the afternoon sun
Your name, oh so familiar and true
I reach  for the top of the stone, to steady myself, and you are there
I trace the letters with my heart and hand
 Realising, you live on in each heart that loves you -
And the red bird sings.


Your life; so much more than mere words chiseled in stone...

The view, one  so reminiscent of you
Age-olde trees, settled in a peaceful ravine
Teaming with the glories of Nature; each one, you held so dear
Yours  is a special room in a safe corner of my Heart
Never to forget you -
 And the red bird sings.

As I ascend the hill, it seems a difficult climb...

 I remember how often you walked 
When little oxygen was given you
 Your body incredibly stressed
Yet, you were determined to give each step your absolute best
I will give you no less -
 And the red bird sings.

Your  husband, now buried next to you...

Following you, nine months later
To the Great Unknown;

I guess it is the way it was meant to be
Perhaps those were his wishes, as to be with you
You never liked being away from each other -
And the red bird sings.

I bring nothing in my hands...

Yet, my Heart is full
So many thoughts and emotions
Now, seeping through porous grief
A grief that we often bore, together

We were always a part of each other's healing -
And the red bird sings.


  I turn to make my descent ...

I see you clearly in the afternoon sun
You are happy; I sense the joy in your smile
Your hand steady upon my shoulder
As you point me to my family;
Our family-
And the red bird sings.

  ~ For your love and prayers, always... Thank You!
 The red bird sings.

Alicia O'Hara
c. 31 May, 2014


~ Beannaichte'
16 May, 2017
  

@beannaichte.twitter.com

Thursday, May 11, 2017

"Confiteor: A Country Song"


EveningRed sky.  Standing at the door.
I sense a shadow presence here:
the one who loved this land before.

Those harmless hills bear scars of war.
Someone stood here, full of fear.
This is not a metaphor.

Above me, turkey vultures soar;
below the garden, seven deer
Someone loved this land before.

loved it as I do, maybe more
She did not simply disappear
and she is not a metaphor.

This was some woman's home before
pale soldiers came to clear
a land that someone loved before.

What to do with facts like this?  I ignore
them?  Hope they disappear?
Someone loved this land before.
None of this is metaphor.

~ Patricia Monaghan
U.S.A./ Ireland  

~ Beannaichte'
11 May, 2017
 @beannaichte.twitter.com

Friday, May 5, 2017

"if' i"


"if"
i  looked through your eyes,
would  i see the Hunter's Moon; in awe of its beauty and mystery
would the Stars hold a Mystery; my eyes fixed to the Sky
would the Sun burn with the Fire of Ten -Thousand Suns
would my face be washed Clean with Tears, because of this Beauty
would Smile from a place, deep Inside-
 Knowing, i  have Touched the Sacred Mystery, "if".


"if" i  looked through your eyes
would i walk the Path; Moonlight Guiding each footfall
would the Stars be  the truest of Diamonds 
would the Sun impart Healing, with Eternal Light
would i Touch my Tears and not be ashamed
would i Smile  from a  place, that runs Deeper than Rivers-
 wouldKnow, i have Shared the Sacred Mystery, "if"...


"if" i continued to look through your eyes
would  Sway with tall prairie Grasses, that Dance in the Wind
would  i  continue to Stand Tall; akin to the mighty Oak
would i be equally Graceful, as the Weeping Willow
would my Voice resonate with the Gentleness of the Cottonwood
would Smile in the Sunlight, shimmering through Myriad of Treetops-
would  i   Know, i am a  Part of the Sacred Mystery,"if"...


"if"  while looking through your eyes
would i  realise, all Life is Precious
would i be True to the Wisdom of my Ancestors
would i Trace their Footprints, imprinted on the Land
would i  see the Signature of God, everywhere
would i endure Struggle to know Freedom-
would  i  Know  that  Creation is Borne  of Sacred Mystery,"if"...


"if" after Journeying with you
wouldKnow  that i  must Look through my eyes
would  i  be Faithful and Cherish  my Vision 
would Accept my Woundedness;
 Knowing, this is the Way of  Redemption
would  i  be Willing to Sacrifice Pleasure for Freedom; from self
would Know  that Life is a Gift; and Not a given-
would i then, Know;
 Sacred Mystery is Absolute-
 Never Guided,  by a "would",  an "if"- or an "i".


Alicia O'Hara
c. 20 October, 2013 

~ Beannaichte'
5 May, 2017 

@beannaichte.twitter.com