Tuesday, March 16, 2010

When St Patrick Met the Druid

When St Patrick met the Druid

Seeing is believing, but really
there were no snakes to start with
It's not a miracle
to drive away the invisible.

He was a gaunt man
inflamed with the need to prove
he was no swineherd;
Patrician of Ireland
refusing to acknowledge an Ollamh
A Doctor of Knowledge, a poet.

He has no subtlety of words
but speaks quickly without reflection
eager to fill the space between us
With reflections on his God

I ask him, what three things
make a man of honour?
He does not know the answer
He is no initiate.

Yet he has fire, this slave turned master
I can see him devouring us all.
I waste no more words on him;
He cannot hear what I say.


Saturday, March 6, 2010


Originally uploaded by GerCMByrne.
That wild coast still calls me
rock and nook and inlet
wave upon wave, from the time
my father's father stood
every grain of sand filtered
through a dark hourglass
calling me back, pulsing
like the blood in my veins

Geraldine Moorkens Byrne