Nobody Knows....

Has every word been written?

Has every song been sung?

Has every thought been captured? Has every bell been rung?

Don’t let your heart run cold

Don’t let your soul be sold

Let the light shine bright and bold

Let the truth be freely told.

Has every rhyme been offered? Has every beat been struck? Has every web been woven? Have we all run out of luck?

Don’t let your heart run cold

Don’t let your soul be sold

Let the light shine bright and bold

Let the truth be freely told.

Are there hearts still left unbroken?

Has every race been run?

What sordid secrets lie unspoken?

Beneath the sinking sun?

Don’t let your heart run cold

Don’t let your soul be sold

Let the light shine bright and bold

Let the truth be freely told.

When will the clouds be parted?

When will the doves fly free?

When will the tears stop flowing?

It will be up to you and me!

Don’t let your heart run cold

Don’t let your soul be sold

Let the light shine bright and bold

Let the truth be freely told.

Seamus Heaney and Gerry O’Reilly8

Now a true story: unique you might say, A memorable evening; to most, just a day. Two sons of Eire arrange a short meeting, The fusing of brothers upon first greeting.

From each emotes a calm emanation, Words flow forth without hesitation. One hails from a remote port of science, The other immersed in a crucible of violence.

The veil of differing paths no barriers create, Ideas to explore, no need for debate. Respect for the rhythm, respect for the rhyme Much to discuss and so little time.

Two sons of Eire bid farewell from the meeting, Reminded again that time flies all too fleeting. From each to ‘old sod’ flows a deep, deep devotion, The one through poetry; the other through motion.

8 Gerry O’Reilly is a personal friend who told me the story of this meeting. Gerry was a very accomplished athlete at Villanova University during the mid 1980’s. He comes from Count Meath, just outside of Dublin but was born in Uranium City, Saskatchewan where his parents worked in the early 1960’s. Seamus Heaney is one of Ireland’s most famous poets who passed away in 2013.

Where Goes the Heart?

My brain feels dull and fuzzy I cannot clearly think My thoughts…. they run asunder From to soup to kitchen sink. I ask myself the questions, What makes my heart lift? And What makes my heart sink?

To grasp and shape tomorrow The past, I feel no link The days are getting blurry Time passes as in a blink! Again, I ask the questions, What makes my heart lift? And What makes my heart sink?

I group my shaken senses Push hope to the very brink I brace and press on forward This challenge, I shall not shrink. I’ll strive to meet the questions, Seek where my heart lifts! And Shun what makes my heart sink.

I Did Not See the Flowers

Arrived home today, mid-afternoon

Walking briskly, head in a swoon. Oblivious to all, behind and before Emails to read; texts to ignore. Something on the table but I looked far beyond Plans for tomorrow, much need to respond Noise in my head, thoughts yet to form.

I did not see the flowers.

Many years ‘fore, lost in my domain

Every day different; but really the same. Proposals to develop, reports to review So much to chase, so much to do. A colleague stopped in, said this to me: What’s with that plant? What a pity! There in the corner with no signs of life.

I did not see the flowers.

Now years have passed and better days come I watch the sun rise, no longer feel numb. Finally, some time and much less to do Now time for me and now time for you. No need to rush here, no need to rush there. A relaxing repose, at last time to spare. So goes each day, with much life ahead.

I finally see the flowers.