Category Archives: Relevance

Go, the Mass is Upended

Go, the Mass is ended, secret children no more
Evil works uncovered
As it’s now reported to you.

Go, the Mass is ended,Tuam now tell
the world
These lives undone, the time has come
These children harmed no one.

Go, the Mass is ended, secret children no more
We promise your Mammies loved you
You were always stolen from them.

Go, the Mass is ended, evil of the cloth,
You imprisoned light, from them robbed life
Now Justice must be served.

Go, the Mass is ended, hearts break across our land
Give these women courage
Spread the word, we’re coming for you.

Go, the Mass is ended, leave no stone unturned
This day is yours, unearth that world
Institute of fear now burn.

An Peann

In memory of the almost 800 children found in Tuam. My family’s thoughts are with every woman who was imprisoned in a Mother and Baby home in Ireland during those dark times, my heart breaks for you, you did nothing wrong.
You carried life,sadly life was stolen from you. You were wronged by the hands of evil. Thank you Catherine Corless (Local Historian) for revealing the truth.
For the sisters of no mercy, you never nursed the sick to dying, you murdered them with neglect. Your God is waiting for you.

 

Situation Vacant

They sat looking blankly at each other.

Every century the position changed hands.

Tensely they sat around the circular surface.

‘Who’s turn is it?’, said the current keeper?

Silence fell amongst them, then they laughed.

‘ I think it’s time we went down’, said Cultivator.

‘We have wasted enough time watching them kill each other, we planted the seed of democracy thousands of years ago, yet recently it seems to have backfired again.’

Tactile crossed her five legs awkwardly, interrupting with a musical cough. ‘Very well, shall we send down some representatives to wake the Earthlings up?’

The glass room erupted with laughter. The general consensus was to stay out of unknowing planets affairs. Instead a watcher would monitor progress. Each century the situation would become vacant.

A new Keeper was required, yet not one species from any planet was willing to offer their services. Which is why a meeting was called.

Reason from the planet of the Misunderstood stood up offering some perspective.

‘Our people have lived through many debates, we fought arguments with counter arguments. Eventually our people lost their voices, now we communicate through actions. There is great peace in the silence, the new generations are learning to speak again. They speak with peace in their tone. Is it not better to let them fight it out? Learn to build up from the ruins of their mistakes?’

The keeper shook his heads.

‘I’m afraid I see a pattern emerging again. They have not learned from past mistakes. They are building buttons to press, which, I might add, could cause a ripple effect on other young planets. They want to build walls rather then break through barriers of hatred. They let innocent children die, instead of providing refuge. There are some who want to make the world better, they are few.’

Tactile rose and said ‘Let me see if I can affect their thinking, I will fill the vacant situation, I will take the seat of Keeper for one of their years. If I see any shaky hands about to press a button, we will turn off their power, take down their Wi-Fi connections and send down a universal intervention committee.’

‘How do you intend to affect their thinking?’ asked Reason.

‘ I will show them their true selves, every time they see their reflection, they will wince with pain if they cause it. They will feel happiness if they cause joy. They will become what they think. It’s a very hands-on approach but it should help them see who they really are’, said Tactile.

Reason understood Tactile’s thinking, though he feared there may not be many left on Earth after the year was up. ‘ You have the support of our planet’, said Reason. ‘Eventually every species must see themselves for what they have become.’

Tactile began her role as Keeper. She was determined to kick the ball of change into the Earth’s atmosphere with one of her many legs.

No longer was the Situation Vacant.

An Peann

 

Reclaim Ownership

You began in a watery cave of dreams.
A place where you paid no rent.
You were given shelter, nourishment and protection.
As all these gifts were given, you grew from a cell.

Out you came, unknowing.
Without debt, you credited the world with your presence.
You drank the milk of your creator.
You ate when your body was ready.

You wriggled, rolled, crawled then walked.
You ran when your legs gathered speed.
Learning was first mimicked, then taught.
Thinking became realised, then censored.

Rules became laws. Right was not wrong.
You stepped into line, there was a queue.
You followed the crowd, became a pawn.
You believed you were contributing.

You woke up one day, disillusioned.
With all the years of sculpting
YOU REALISE
Society had repossessed your hopes.

You take your awareness to the court.
The Court of Moral Awareness.
You present your case, success is promised.
You tell counsel this:

I began in a watery cave of dreams.
A place where I paid no rent.
I was given shelter, nourishment and protection.
As all these gifts were given, I grew from a cell.

The Judge who presides over Court asks you
‘What are you arguing for?’
You reply, ‘I have come to reclaim ownership.
I have the right to own my thinking.’

On returning from The Chamber of Conscience
The judge straightens his thinking stating
‘I wish more people would come to my court.
The mind is the property of oneself.’

You look the Judge straight in the eye.
The resemblance between you both is uncanny.
You resolve to take full responsibility going forward.
You will never pay dues on your own thinking again.

An Peann

 

Under Cavan Skies

On the 360th day of the year with four minutes to midnight we stood under clear Cavan skies.

Every star had a sharpness so bright they could make an atheist bow at their majesty.
You cannot deny what the eyes make you see.

Orion’s Belt was fastened with clarity.
A question mark backwards demanded we ask ourselves the unanswerable.

Above Orion was a red star.
Stars normally don’t impress me, they make me dizzy.

They crowd my thinking, take my breath away, make me feel small and overwhelmed. They frighten me with their boastful eternity.

They will continue to shine long after we are gone.

The Ancient Greeks once thought there was a blanket behind the skies, they believed the blanket was pierced with little holes, in which the light shone through.
Those lights are what we call the stars.

Time teaches us to believe different things.

As we stood under the lights, I listened as he told me what the constellations were called.

I listened because these past few weeks have taught us that although the stars relentlessly shine, those we love can dim their light.

People can walk out the door and never come home again.

Children can be taken before they are given the opportunity to shine.

Who’s heaven decides such fate?

Illness can meet you at unexpected places, leave or take us into his arms and walk away with us.

Walking up the yard toward the house, the blue lights of the suspended Christmas tree on the street outside, brought us back to the falseness of our reality.

Our made up world that we focus so much on, fades in comparison to the Greek blanket hanging in the Cavan sky.

Oh, the beauty and fragility of life.
Understanding that brightness can be found even in the darkest corners, can resurrect our hopes.
There is such power and strength to be found in the darkness of life, for through the darkness is the epitome of life – those everlasting twinkling beacons of night’s light.

If only we could remember to bring those stars into our day’s light.
There may come a time, you need to fight for some light, if you do just remember
that once the Greeks believed in a pierced blanket in the sky.
Anything is possible, if you are willing to see the light.

An Peann

 

Your Double Decker Bus

There’s a double decker bus with your number on it, you cannot read the digit, you just know it’s your bus.
There are many stages, the first passengers to embark are your parents. The bus just cannot start without them.

They get on with your brothers and your sisters. Along with them they bring your Grandparents, even their deceased parents. Everyone has a seat on the bus.

Your Aunts and Uncles follow with their children.
The bus begins to move.

The next stage your first friend climbs on board. Their presence makes you warm, bringing back memories of that first connection with someone out side your own family.
Behind that first friend comes all your little school friends, your first teacher and every teacher that taught you in your primary years.

A special seat that seems to glow is reserved for those childhood friends who never leave your bus.
Their seat never changes, you always know where to find them and they always can find you.

The next stop more passengers alight. Each passenger wears a small red heart on their sleeve. These are the people you have shared a first with. A first crush, a first kiss, all the firsts you can imagine to remember. They take their seats dispersed amongst the now busy bus.
Few make it to the top of the bus, but they all find a place.

As the bus moves along, time moves with it, sometimes slowly, sometimes it flies along. Occasionally it to comes to a halt. Some of the earlier passengers begin to leave.
Certain passengers you do not notice leave, while others you miss instantly.
The bus keeps moving forward.

When you feel like you have already spent a small lifetime on the route, the pace moves faster.
New faces join your bus.
These faces are the holders of the lifetime tickets.
You know this because the inspector begins to ask for ‘tickets please’.
Your family and lifetime friends are exempt. They don’t need a ticket, they have what you would call a lifetime pass.
There is always someone on your bus who shouldn’t be there, they take up a seat, that they don’t deserve, or squeeze themselves in without reason.
They don’t really want to be on your bus. They distract the driver, upset the other passengers and are generally unwelcome.

Sometimes the inspector spots them straight away, showing them the exit before they cause too much havoc.
Other undesirables may just get off before they are found out.
This makes for a less bumpy drive.

The bell rings and the bus grinds to a halt, there is a mass exodus.

Many faces change bus, some stay. New passengers get on with speed, the bus moves faster, voices grow more familiar.
Those closest to you sit at the top of the bus.

Downstairs the seating changes, some give up their seats to the passengers standing, this continuously changes.
Your children and chosen love shadows now fill the designated seats that somehow always remained empty.

Your bus now feels full.

Along the way you will lose passengers, you will find yourself standing and unseated on your own bus.
The wheels may wear down, the windows may sometimes crack, the bus may get stuck in life’s traffic, but it will always move along again.
The bus can take you anywhere and you just never know when it may finally stop.

There’s a double decker bus with your number on it, you cannot read the digit, you just know it’s your bus.

An Peann

Where Cold Ghosts Meet

On Grafton Street she was putting the finishing touches to her chalked coloured masterpiece.
She drew love hearts over all the i’s, pretty they were in their painful disguise.

I had seen her work before, on the ground of Henry Street, her colours then washed away by the man in the truck that sweeps.

I never made time to read them, you know how we are sometimes in a rush?

Last night, I stopped.
I stopped, instead of glancing at the wares inside the windows of the Brown Thomas shop.

I stopped, became moved without moving.
Together we read her chalked words.
Her message reminded us how we should never look down on others.
I asked her could I sit down?
Together we shared a space on the cold October ground.

Her Mother gifted her to the State when she was 12.
Pragmatically she explained, it was for her own safety’s sake.

I asked her was she not fostered?
Shaking her head she told me how her Mam still had rights at the time.
Voluntarily she entrusted her into the arms of the state,
with a promise and a hope to take back home some day.

‘Where did you grow up?’ I asked her.
It turned out we we both grew up in Tallaght.
Looking at her face, I felt I could have known her Mother.
She explained that she grew up in Jobstown, I said ‘so did I’.
She looked back at me with shock in her eyes.

She calls herself April.
She is 18 and a half years old.
She grew up running away from various Care Homes, she didn’t like the hostels, she said ‘it’s not safe to sleep on the street.’

‘I have a tent, another couple stay there too, no one comes near us.’ She assured me it was somewhere safe to rest her pretty red head.

She has somewhere to have a shower every day at nine.
She goes to Art classes in a homeless project, to pass away the time.

More than anything she just wants a real home, so she can go back to school.
This young girl has had it hard, but she is nobody’s fool.
She is waiting for aftercare, the social worker closed her case.
Eighteen years old, no longer a care for the State.

April wants to go to Trinity, she reads a lot.
To study history, even be an archaeologist some day.

I told her she was too beautiful for the streets, she said ‘ah, thanks, thanks a lot.’ She really was ever so sweet.

April grew up across the river from where I lived.
The river being a trickle that divides a multitude of lives.

I am sorry for you, I said.
I don’t feel sorry for you.
I am just sorry you have to live this life.

We hugged, longer than we needed to.

April being no fool, is burdened by circumstances.

She is just a young girl who deserves the right to go back to school.

An Peann

I asked April was it okay to write about her, she said it was okay. If you are reading this, stay safe.
You will go to Trinity some day.
Big Hug.xxx