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"O God, I could be bounded in a nut shell and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams." - Hamlet Act II scene ii
29 July 2010
Woodlice
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27 July 2010
Eden
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26 July 2010
Snaps
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25 July 2010
Mentioned
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22 July 2010
Elders
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18 July 2010
Home
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13 July 2010
Holiday
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7 July 2010
Vacation
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Being
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5 July 2010
Week
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3 July 2010
Burial
At the end Michael wove in some few Spanish words which connected Ireland's freedom struggle with the battles of Spanish republicans before the second world war - "Viva la quinta brigada! No passaran! Adelante!"
People began to drift away. Some stood amongst the graves exchanging thoughts about Paul. I took a handful of earth from the pile and threw it on top of his coffin. Soon the gravediggers removed the flowers and began their timeless task, quietly filling in the hole where Paul will rest forever - well not really Paul but his human remains - that same wax model I reflected on in "Hands".
It was the best of days and the worst of days. Has there ever been a more beautiful funeral? I doubt it. I was filled with pride for my lost brother who was so loved by the people of Clare - the old and the young, rich and poor, intellectual and moronic, pub landlords and priests. Although he was only sixty two, he lived his life to the full with such goodness in his soul. By far, I am not the only one who will never forget him.
2 July 2010
Grief
I always loved this haunting song but now it has been imbued with extra meaning. I've chosen an amateurish video version with the writer, Andy Irvine and his friend Donal Lunny in concert.
Memories I have of you, won't leave me in peace
My mind is running back, to the west coast of Clare
Thinking of you, the times we had there
I walked to Spanish Point, I knew I'd find you there
I stood on the white strand, and you were everywhere
Vivid memories faint, but the mood still remains
I wish I could go back, and be with you again
In Miltown there's a pub, its there that I sat down
I see you everywhere, your face is all around
The search for times past, contain such sweet pain
I banish lonesome thoughts, but they return again
I walk along the shore, the rain in my face
My mind is numb with grief, of you there is no trace
I'll think of this again, when in far off lands I roam
Walking with you, by this cold Atlantic foam
Sorrow and sadness, bitterness, grief
Memories I have of you, won't leave me in peace
My mind is running back, to the west coast of Clare
Thinking of you, the times we had there
1 July 2010
Poem
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