A new chapter

  A triangle   A triangle of blue sky Appears in the window  As blue as the noon in Rome In deepest sultry Italy.  Ireland is so much fun When it frolics in sun When the clouds disappear All the crowds cheer.  The beaches fill up The towns empty out Offices close early Deadlines just disappear.  Nothing as grand  As a strong farmers tan Nothing as bracing As a dip in the sea.  Half eaten apples  Fall to the ground The birds only eat  What fits in their beak.  The bees are still combing Both flowers and weeds They fail to distinguish  Our arbitrary choices.  Praise be Cat Stevens Who sang of the morning  Praise be Mother Earth Who gifts us this evening! 

  August sun I’m sitting here in my deck chair In my sun-house out of the sun Safe from the August heat Gazing out to sea The apple trees have grown In the decade since we bought here The hedges have grown higher  The grass is turning yellow.  In the armpit of the year Nestling into middle August Serene in a late summer haze The heat seems here to stay.  A neighbors dog is barking For no apparent reason Like people, dogs it seems, Want to stake their boundary.  The wind comes from the west All the way from Cuba Bringing heat and balm For the Wexford natives.  Grateful we for sunny days Which come and go despite us Tomorrow’s forecast rain And after that a scorcher.  Families with young children Arrive to mobile homes  The kids spill out to play Returning two weeks later.  Nothing beats an Irish summer If your skin is fair like mine is No one here will join a queue  We’ll bide our time til later. 

  The year 2100 In 76 years time what will be left of the world and its peoples? The good news is that the world will have survived, yet again, despite mankind’s best efforts. History teaches us the world is indestructible. While we worry about the planet we should be more concerned with its creatures, human and otherwise.  Mankind will have survived albeit in much smaller numbers. Inhabiting a smaller area that a three degree increase in temperature allows.  I shall not dwell on the misfortunes of mankind because even now it’s not clear which of his many efforts to destroy will succeed in reducing entire populations.  A chastened mankind will trace an ark towards what might described as good or God because it is no longer a moral preference but an existential necessity.  Teilhard de Chardin will be proved right but not in the way he had imagined.  Capitalism will have devoured its own. All possessions are lent to the inhabitants. Virtue is no longer a pref...

  No more words   No more words for now Music fills the soul Lay the burden down No response required.   Sheared of words, the spirit Rises above the narrow streets Freed from logic’s bonds Yielding earth to fluffy clouds.  Freed from gravity and more To a place beyond the stars, Knocking on the door to heaven  No need to knock, just enter. 

  Brother Roger Brother Roger lived his life in peace Yet died attending Mass Killed by a lady with a knife  Without reason stole his life.  A murder that’s a mystery  Like Jesus back in history Logic fails us and so we struggle  Where is God in all of this? No one knows, no one can explain And yet and yet the message will remain The movement marches on Their works survive their lives.  Brother Roger, brother dear Companion on the pilgrim trail Happy on the journey The path will lead we know not where.  We can take a step in hope And leave the finish to the fates Plans and maps are fine But we don’t call the time.  Onwards, onwards pilgrims trail Keep our rucksacks light Walk towards Taizè through the night Keeping Roger’s peace in sight. 

  I don’t believe in heaven I don’t believe in heaven I hope for something better Unseen by eye, unheard by ear Beyond imagination.  Where I is we and we is all Creation in the heavens Safe from moths and bullets Free from all the madness.  Let’s head into the west May the pink horizon Welcome those with sails extended Those who lived their lives for freedom.  Free from what imprisons  Our inner guiding spirit Free at last to wander The pilgrim streets of marvel. 

  We must break the bonds   We must break the bonds  Even though they seem of virtue  Nothing good comes from blind belief We cannot conquer conscience.  Better a convinced pauper Than a rich imposter  Who cannot live with self We cannot swallow gold.  We run the risk of folly  Better our mistakes than others’ For God made freedom first If we believe the Bible.  Newman was right in this Of course he was, for how Can we justify a path  We know is incorrect? For a quiet life perhaps Or steep career promotion But what sour food awaits At the table of the coward.  To thine own self be true And suffer all that follows You must never lose your soul Integrity cannot be borrowed.