Oh the rush with which the forgotten mind awakens
Under the day a well of dark where colour dwells
Until it learns the art of light and can reveal,
In neglected things, the freshness thought darkens.
With grey mastery distance starts to blur the horror.
Already the days begin to set around the loss.
The after-silence of his death becomes porous
To the gossip of regret that follows failure.
Through the cold, quiet nighttime of the grave underground,
The earth concentrated on him with complete longing
Until his sleep could recall the dark from beyond
To enfold memory lost in the requiem of the mind.
The moon stirs a wave of brightening in the stone.
He rises clothed in the young colours of dawn.
john o 'donohue
it has become a struggle to mark easter after the passing of lent. having been a catholic christian for most my life, i have learnt to take for granted that the church will carry on the tradition of this feast, bringing with her the scores of pilgrims who remain faithful and believe.
i need a good poem to pick up my life sometimes. o'donohue's verse draws me back to the tomb of my own unconsciousness and the semi-darkness that i still slip into now and then. in my heart, i too have entertained many 'gossip(s) of regret' of things that remain undone and how i have 'set my days' , often 'around the loss' that is received.
someone once said it is important in life to always "watch the tides..."
after the endfalls of rain
i wait for the coming ocean to break this silence,
to put my dreams on shore
